


Akaashi Wants the D(efacing Public Property)

by penguins_and_such



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji's Mom, Akaashi Keiji-centric, Alternate Universe, M/M, More characters to come, Pierced Akaashi Keiji, bokuaka is the focus, cop!bokuto, no oikawa ships are set in stone, punk!akaashi, the cop/anarchist au that literally one person asked for, well it's more like artist!akaashi who is fed up, will add other ships and characters as they appear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-05-10 13:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 64,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5588239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguins_and_such/pseuds/penguins_and_such
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akaashi is an artist who does graffiti to prove a point, Bokuto is the cop that keeps running into him and will he please just make Bokuto's life easier, just this once maybe?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Akaashi and Bokuto are both trying to make a difference in very different ways, conflict ensues, as do massive crushes on one another. I don't have a regular update schedule, but I do have most of the story outlined, we'll see where it goes.

In the darkness a hooded figure carries a duffel bag full of something metal, it makes a soft _clank_ sound with every step they take. They stop at a pedestrian bridge, and clamber down the retaining wall, mostly quiet as the river behind them rushes onwards, steady and dark. Their boots hit the walkway at the base of the wall and they continue onward for a few feet before pausing, turning and looking over their shoulder. With a nod, they set the bag down and examine the wall in front of them, giving a quiet huff at the patches of discoloration. Gray squares painted over the brick, obvious even under the moons pale light, covering old stone and new moss and ivy, presumably it also covers graffiti art. They give a lifeless chuckle as they pull cans of paint out of the bag, hesitating only a moment to glance around before setting to work.

 Hours later, the sun rises and the figure is long gone, but their work remains. On the wall there sits a simple piece, in neon pink and green, some faceless woman holds a crushed piece of paper in one hand, and a can of spray paint in the other. Underneath her, in big vibrant yellow letters: We will not be silenced.

* * *

 

When Bokuto Koutarou’s alarm goes off he sits up ramrod straight. Today’s the day.

Objectively he thinks he shouldn’t be quite so eager to help the riot police, nor should he be so eager to join them.

But he can't help but feel that he could make a real difference. That he would be a good cop. He could, and would lead by example.

Thoughts bright and optimistic, he stands in front of his mirror, debating whether or not he should bother styling his hair. He watches his mouth twist up into a frown as he decides not to. It’s just gonna end up under a helmet anyway, he thinks with some bitterness. Feeling a bit odd for ditching that portion of his routine, he brushes his teeth and simply combs his hair, walking into the kitchen and getting some toaster waffles ready. He eyes his coffeepot warily before opening his fridge and opting for orange juice instead. When the waffles pop up he nearly drops both glass and juice, but salvages the situation and gets the waffles on a plate and smears butter on them, pouring a (un)healthy amount of syrup on them before stuffing his face. By the time he’s chugged down the last of his juice he’s cursing at the time and frantically running out of his apartment, barely making it to station in time for his train.

He runs up the steps to his station, panting as he bursts through the door, no one gives a second glance once they’ve figured out who it was, used to his antics after six months. Bokuto cheerily greets Kenma as he passes his desk, but gets ignored in favor of whatever information is flashing across his screen. Or maybe he’s playing games under his desk again, Bokuto never can tell. He’s not too surprised to see Kuroo already sitting at his desk with his feet perched on the corner of it and a lazy grin spread across his face. “Morning, partner.”

“Morning, dude, sorry I’m late.” Bokuto leans over his own desk, double checking that he has all the paper work in place before gathering it all up while Kuroo slowly set his feet down and stretched.

Kuroo gives a glance to the clock on the back wall before shrugging. “A whole minute late, what am I supposed to do with a partner like you?” He puts his fingers underneath his chin, tilting his head before dropping both hands and shaking his head. “I just don’t know.”

“Guess you’ll just have to hope I get it together sometime soon. Come on, let’s go.” He laughs at his partner’s antics before giving him a light push towards the stairs, where they’ll be joining the riot police for today. Well, where they’re meeting to join the riot police for today. They were going up there to pick up gear and meet the guy they’d be shadowing all day. Then they’d head out to the assignment with the rest of the team for today. Bokuto was pretty pumped, and looking over at Kuroo and seeing the glint in his eyes as they ascended the stairs, he could tell his partner was too.

They were both fresh out of the academy and hadn’t been partnered until recently, and since being partnered they were stuck doing mostly desk work, occasionally patrolling or taking calls with senior officers. It hadn’t been until they’d taken a call for a domestic by themselves that they felt like they were finally doing _something_ , not that they really minded the work they’d been doing, but both of them yearned to be more active. They both felt like they got more done with their boots on the ground, which is why they were both thrilled when it turned out the captain of the riot police had reached out to them after he saw how well they handled themselves in such a high tension situation. Which is how they ended up here, now, with a chance to actually _do something_.

Like he's wanted to since the start.

Bokuto feels like his heart might beat out of his chest as they’re handed their equipment and are directed towards the stairwell for the garage this time. As they walk into the garage they can see people hauling themselves and their gear into a van, the area near the exit is a flurry of motion, all moving but one.

Bokuto and Kuroo glance at each other before Kuroo speaks up, talking a bit louder than normal to be heard over the din. “Are you Iwaizumi-san?”

 The guy turns his head and looks at both of them, appraising them before tilting his head forward. “Kuroo and Bokuto I assume?” At their nods he speaks up again, motioning them to get closer. “Alright, I’ll give you a rundown, and just Iwaizumi, please.”

“Yes Sir! Bokuto Koutarou here!” Bokuto can’t help but thrust his arm forward as they take several steps towards him, ending up a couple feet from him. Iwaizumi makes a face at the title, but grabs his hand and gives it a firm shake, returning the favor to Kuroo as he introduces himself.

This close, Bokuto can tell he’s not that much older than them, which is simultaneously encouraging and somewhat disappointing. He glances towards Kuroo, but if he thinks anything of the guy’s age he’s not showing it. Stupid Kuroo and his stupid poker face. He pulls himself from his almost-pout to listen to what Iwaizumi is saying.

“Here’s the situation, this is supposed to be like all the other peaceful protests so far, they’re at the park in front of the art museum, in the square with the sculptures. No violence is expected today, and in fact, it’s been a sit-down for the most part. We have no reason to believe anyone will be there, but they still like for us to be around, it can keep the protesters from acting up, but it mostly makes the civilians passing by feel safer. So our job is to stand around and look attentive, you most likely won’t have to do anything but that. Since we’re a bit short, Bokuto will shadow me and Kuroo can shadow Washio, if we split you up we can have 3 equal groups dispersed throughout the area. That cool with you guys?” As he’s finishing up his speech he starts scratching at the back of his head, idly looking around.

When Bokuto looks over to Kuroo he’s already looking at him, they pass a look and then both shrug. “Sure.” Bokuto says.

Iwaizumi claps his hands together “Good, cause it looks like everyone’s loaded up, you two can introduce yourselves to everyone else on the drive over. I’m driving, so I’ll be up front.” He claps them each on the shoulders and gives a small smile and nod before heading to the front of the van.

They head towards the back of the van, where the doors are open and conversation stops as they come into sight. Three sets of eyes bore into them and Bokuto straightens his back on impulse, “Bokuto Koutarou! Nice to meet you!”

Beside him, Kuroo lazily picks up his hand and waves “Kuroo Tetsurou, same.”

The blonde smirking on the bench to the left speaks up first. “Welcome to the team, well maybe right?” He pauses only momentarily, not giving them a chance to speak up “I’m Konoha.” He points to the guy sitting to his left “That’s Washio, and-”

“I’m Onaga.” He’s just lifted his finger and is pointing his hand towards the guy sitting in the back when said guy introduces himself. The blonde-Konoha, shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“I forget you’re not like Washio, you’re not quiet _all_ the time, just _most_ of the time.” The guy sitting on the back bench colors a bit, fidgeting in place but (predictably, apparently) stays silent. Bokuto finds himself a bit uncomfortable under Konoha’s gaze when it falls on them again. His smirk isn’t quite lazy like Kuroo’s, and his eyes are too perceptive.

He can't help but feel that he's being analyzed, every detail going into some catalog. 

“Well?” He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the blonde gesturing to the empty bench in front of him, on the right side of the van. “Are you coming?” Kuroo’s the first to haul himself into the back, and Bokuto follows after him, Konoha reaching out and shutting the doors behind them. Onaga knocks against the wall he’s leaned against and a few minutes later they’re on their way.

Now that he’s in the car he can tell just how big Washio and Onaga are, Washio was around Kuroo’s height, but Onaga must be taller, it was easy to tell even sitting like they were. Bokuto feels suddenly insecure looking around until his eyes land on Konoha again, he’s pretty sure he’s got height and mass on that guy. He feels like his height wouldn’t be a factor then, right? He forces his mind to settle and concentrates on remembering his training.

Silence fills the back of the van until Konoha sighs and leans his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Truth be told, there hasn’t been a lot to do lately, even though the city is so turbulent in some places it’s been peaceful for the most part.” Washio grunts beside him.

“That’s a good thing isn’t it?” Bokuto glances over to where Kuroo is, his head leaned against the wall and posture lazy, but his eyes are sharp and he thinks he might be getting better at reading him.

Konoha shrugs, keeping his eyes focused on the roof above them. “On the surface, sure, but something about it feels… off. As if all this pressure is building into… I don’t know, but my gut feelings says to stay on my toes, and I trust my gut.” His head snaps back down and he’s looking Bokuto dead in the eye, smirk replaced with a small smile and he points a finger at him sharply. “ _Always_ trust your gut, especially if you’re gonna stick around here.” Beside him, Washio slowly nods his head sagely.

He clears his throat “Uh, yeah that’s pretty good advice, thanks.” 

The pair across from them take their attention off of them, Konoha making a thoughtful sound before checking his equipment. Bokuto takes the cue to do the same and sees Kuroo and the others following suit. Just as he’s sitting up from retying his boots the van halts. The doors are wrenched open and Bokuto squints into the light, lifting an arm to try to block it. “Alright, Bokuto with me, then Onaga with Konoha at the south clearing.” Konoha grabs Onaga by the arm and steers them both in that direction, Iwaizumi yelling after them. “Keep your walkies on please!” He sighs at Konoha waving him off without turning around and turns toward Kuroo and Washio “You two at the northeast, near the entrance.” Washio nods and silently heads towards the entrance, Kuroo glancing back at Bokuto and shrugging before trailing behind him. Iwaizumi turns towards Bokuto “Alright we’re going to the northwest clearing, near the edge of the park.” He turns and heads that way and Bokuto catches up to him easily. “We’re gonna be in the trees, not hidden, but not visible, again we’re mostly hear to prevent incidents, not manage them.” They reach a spot between two trees and Iwaizumi stops. Bokuto looks around, there’s good visibility, but enough trees between them and the crowd that they won’t be seen unless someone’s looking for them. Iwaizumi unstraps his helmet and drops it to the ground in front of him after a few seconds and simply leans against a tree, surveying the area.

Bokuto follows his lead and looks out over the crowd and Iwaizumi seems right, for the most part people are just sitting around the statues with their signs up. Some are standing and taking photos or painting, and he does see a few people standing near the fence facing the museum and chanting protests, but that’s the only indication that this is a protest. The scene is so serene he begins to question the necessity of them being here, heck he even sees a small woman traipsing about the crowd, handing out muffins and other baked goods from a basket.

He lets himself fall on the tree nearest him heavily, dropping his helmet behind him. He must seem pretty lost because Iwaizumi starts talking. “To be perfectly honest, I think this is a waste of time and money.” Bokuto’s jaw drops a little and he turns to his (possibly) future superior with wide eyes, but Iwaizumi stares straight ahead. “The only reason we’re here is because some big wigs are visiting the museum, saying some words about the censored pieces in front of the censored pieces while reporters take pictures of them in front of the censored pieces. We’re here as a contingency, no one thinks anything will happen to anyone here today, but the riot police hasn’t had a lot of reason to go out lately, so our captain thought it’d be good.” He stretches and looks around, tilting his head towards Bokuto slightly “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I think there’s something more than protecting officials. I don’t know how to explain it, but being sent here almost feels like I’m some guard dog on a chain, like our presence isn’t just to manage incidents or reassure bystanders, it’s almost like a reminder to those involved that they can’t do anything. Well, not while we’re here at the least.”

Bokuto turns back towards the crowd and swallows, he watches a young woman contemplate the crowd in front of her before going back to her canvas, at this angle he can see what she’s working on. It’s a landscape of the museum, but with barbed wire fences around the perimeter and roof, iron bars and the doors and heavy locks on the windows. He can see what she’s going for. He turns back towards Iwaizumi “Say, sir, can I ask you a question?”

He grunts and keeps his eyes forward facing.

“Feel free not to answer, but personally, what do you think of the censorship laws?” He freezes when Iwaizumi turns his eyes towards him slowly, but relaxes slightly when he gives an ungraceful snort.

“Personally? I think it’s too much, but I don’t make the laws. That’s not my job, my job is to enforce them.” His neck swivels and once more he’s back to staring out at the crowd, Bokuto does the same. He doesn’t see him turn but he still asks “What about you? Personally what do you think?”

Bokuto shrugs slowly “Art shouldn’t be censored, it’s supposed to be thought provoking y’know. It’s supposed to make you challenge yourself and others, it doesn’t seem fair to take that away from artists.” He feel the eyes of the man beside him boring into the side of his head and forces a laugh “Then again, I’m a bit biased since I studied art before I joined the academy. Although in the end I’m in the same position as you, so it’s not like it makes a difference.”

He feels his cheeks heat up as the man across from him snorts “That was pretty good food for thought. Well what do you know, we might have an artist joining our midst.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, I mostly studied theory, I was a little crap at it in practice.” He scratches at the back of his head idly. He sees Iwaizumi shrug and they fall into an easy silence.

An hour or so passes and Bokuto is grateful for the slight breeze, otherwise he might doze off. He suppresses a yawn by shaking his head and stretching his arms.

As if some deity heard his thoughts he hears Konoha’s voice crackle through the radio on his shoulder. “Here comes trouble.”

He hears Iwaizumi both a few feet from him and through the speaker near his ear and he cringes at the discordant echo. “Konoha clarify, and it’s another shitty joke don’t bother, you know you should keep the line clear.” Glancing over at him, he seems less worried and more hassled.

“It’s that kid with dark hair. From the bridges last week.” Iwaizumi curses off the line and Bokuto’s eyes widen. It can’t be that serious, it’s just one dude, right?

“Where?” When he speaks he sounds a bit calmer.

“Headed your way.”

“Great.” Iwaizumi drops his hand off his radio and looks through the crowd.

Bokuto clears his throat “Who was he talking about?”

He sighs and drops his gaze, running a hand through his short, spiky hair before going back to visually searching the protestors. “We’ve had a few run-ins with him before. He comes to protests and rallies pretty frequently, but last week… Well, Konoha and I were patrolling the bridges for some friends in another precinct and we ran across someone in a hood with a clanking duffel bag. Suspicious, but not illegal,” Bokuto finds himself nodding “so we kept walking and a few minutes later we come across what he was working on. This huge green and pink piece on the retaining wall. We turn around ‘cause we figure we can take him in, it hasn’t been that long, he should be nearby right?” He scoffs and his eyes land on someone then he shakes his head and continues his search. “We get to where we saw him last and there’s something small painted on a wall nearby, we get closer and you can still _smell_ the paint. We search the area for a few minutes but call it quits. The next patrol had called in so we go over to our car and there, painted on the hood is an obnoxious green and pink smiley face.” Bokuto can see pure irritation on Iwaizumi’s face as he lifts a hand towards someone walking briskly towards the front of the crowd. “There he is, and of course I can’t prove a goddamned thing.”

Bokuto can only make out the guys back, he’s wearing a black t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off to show off the splash of colorful tattoos on his arms with dark skinny jeans and combat boots laced up past his ankles. He certainly looks the type.

They both watch quietly as the man disappears into the thick of the crowd, until Iwaizumi speaks up. “He’s always at the front of the protests, until last week I thought that was as involved as he was.” He shakes his head and goes back to watching over the crowd with a disinterested stare. “Whatever, I can’t do anything about it.”

Bokuto feels a bit of sympathy for the guy, it sounds like a shitty situation. It's hard to imagine what he'd do if something like that happened to him. He shakes off the thought since he probably won’t have to find out anytime soon, though.

A few hours later and everyone’s getting ready to go, since it’ll be dark soon. Iwaizumi radios to tell everyone that they’ll be leaving in a few minutes. Bokuto walks around a bit and stretches, keeping an eye on the dispersing crowd. He freezes in place when Iwaizumi grabs his shoulder.

“Huh?” He looks at him and he’s staring at something in the distance. Bokuto follows his line of sight and his heartbeat stutters.

It’s the guy from earlier, walking towards them, mouth flat and forehead smooth. A completely neutral expression if not for the fire burning in his eyes. As he gets closer Bokuto can make out more details, his ears and one of his eyebrows are pierced, and he’s wearing eyeliner. His hair looks so soft and fluffy Bokuto just wants to reach out and pet it.

He stops where the pavement ends and stares them down, hands shoved into his pockets. After a few minutes he smirks and then nods at the both of them, turning on his heel and walking off with loud boot-laden steps.

Bokuto tries very hard to kick his brain back into gear, it’s a little stuck right now.

_That guy was gorgeous what the fuck? I didn’t think I had a thing for piercings. Or punks. Maybe it’s just a thing for him?_

He’s pulled out of his stupor by Iwaizumi shaking his shoulder and clapping him on the back. He makes out the tail end of whatever he was saying. “-doesn’t matter. Whatever that was about we’ll figure out later.” Bokuto nods dumbly and picks up his helmet, pausing at the new splash of color on it. He stops in his tracks and stares it down.

Iwaizumi gives him a look before walking over from retrieving his own helmet and looks down at Bokuto’s.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Iwaizumi sounds like a mixture of awed and pissed.

Bokuto swallows and stares down the cartoon pig winking at him from the top of his helmet. It’s garishly pink with dark, thick eyelashes and almost looks like it was plucked straight from a children’s show. Despite being an obvious message, Bokuto can’t help but think it’s cute, then his only thought is:

_Why me?_


	2. Chapter 2

Akaashi wakes up to the sun on his face and he groans as he’s dragged into the waking world.

Must be after noon…

He rolls over and examines his surroundings, sighing in relief as he realizes he actually fell asleep on his bed last night. The night slowly comes back to him and he snorts.

Oikawa managed to snatch a riot cop’s helmet and gave it to him to paint before he put it back. Then they went to Suga’s and got some food before Akaashi headed out to meet some artists from the other side of town. They didn’t do a lot except exchange information and plan. Nothing concrete yet, but Akaashi was confident with all of them working together they could organize something big. He smiles up at his ceiling.  

Last night was a good night.

He pulls himself out of bed and then down his ladder, checking the time on the clock on the living room wall before making his way idly towards his and Oikawa’s bathroom. He turns the shower on and stands in the mirror a few minutes, examining his eyeliner from last night before deciding to go ahead and clean his face. He takes his time in the shower but still finds himself with six hours to spare until his shift starts. He stands in the living room in just a towel and sighs at the very sight of the kitchen. He guesses he's found something to do…

He pulls a clean pair of his boxers out of the dryer and puts them on before he scrambles up his ladder again, grabbing a paint covered shirt and some jeans and one of his work shirts before scrambling back down. He sets his work clothes on the coffee table in the living room and pulls on his t shirt before padding into the kitchen and setting to work.

Three hours later and their kitchen and living room look decent for once. Akaashi looks around before humming and settling into one of the couches in the living room, radio humming in the corner as he checks his networks.

They’re still taking at least two days to paint over the pieces, of course it’s faster the closer you get to the nicer neighborhoods. But in the low income neighborhoods it can take up to a week. He wonders…

His train of thought is broken by Suga and Oikawa entering the apartment, both of their arms laden with groceries. They both set their bags down on the kitchen counters and Oikawa is the first to notice him.

“Aka-chan’s up! And it looks like he cleaned… he must’ve gotten bored.” Oikawa throws a smirk over his shoulder at him before putting away groceries.

Suga hits him on the back none too lightly “Don’t be rude, thank you Akaashi, you didn’t have to.” When he turns toward Akaashi his smile is dazzlingly bright.

“Mean! I’ve known Aka-chan long enough to know he doesn’t care.” Oikawa pouts at Suga, who ignores him in favor of opening the fridge and putting vegetables away.  

“Oh, Akaashi we ran into that little old lady from across the street. She wanted my opinion on how to salt her homemade fries, she’s really so cute!” Chipper as always, he starts recounting to him all the people they saw at the supermarket. Akaashi feels a small smile on his lips as he listens to him talk, Oikawa occasionally throwing in his two cents about someone or other.

Living with them is surprisingly domestic. Or maybe it's not so surprising, all things considered.

Akaashi had certainly never expected something so familial when he agreed to this arrangement, he hadn’t known what to expect, he just knew it would work for him. Their deal was pretty simple, Suga’s apartment was directly above the 24 hour diner he owned, he needed extra servers to help out at night and Akaashi and Oikawa were both night owls. At first they were just working there but once Suga found out they were looking for a new place he quickly offered for them to stay with him. At first they were both cautious, living with your boss couldn’t go well. But Suga was the perfect roommate/landlord/boss, he even cooked most of the time and they could get food from the diner for free whenever they pleased. It worked out especially smoothly since Suga could just take rent from their paychecks, although one downside was that since the place only had 2 bedrooms Akaashi had ended up in the loft, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much, all things considered. He slept like a rock most days so it’s not like it was hurting him to be directly above the living room, and besides, he liked being high up.

Suga and Oikawa finish putting away groceries and Oikawa joins him in the living room, Suga still bustling about in the kitchen. “So, what did you get up to last night?”

Akaashi shrugs, eyes flitting from Oikawa on the other side of the couch, who had pulled out his phone, to the window, watching the bright blue sky. “I met up with a few artists from the other side of town,” Suga’s eyes go a bit sharp as he appears in front of them, setting tea down on the coffee table “they added me to their network and put up some stuff from my portfolio. So I could be getting work soon.” Suga’s eyes soften, just a little.

“Well, that’s good, but don’t let them rope you into their schemes, yeah?” Suga’s earnest eyes bore into his before he sits in his favorite worn-out armchair and Akaashi feels slightly uncomfortable at the attention of it. He mothers just about all of his employees, but he feels like he and Oikawa have it the worst, living with him. He picks up his mug quickly to avoid making eye contact, picking at a loose thread on the shirt he’s wearing.

Oikawa rolls his eyes and gives Akaashi a smirk. “Please, if anyone’s scheming it’s our Aka-chan. He could rope just about anyone into his antics.”

Akaashi narrows his eyes at him. “That almost sounds like an accusation.”

Suga looks over at Oikawa right as he’s about to retort and sighs “Yeah, you’re probably right, but still…”

“Well, at least both of you know me well enough.” At both of their shrugs he sighs. “So how was business last night?” He’s really hoping to ditch the topic of him scheming, mostly because he might be.

Luckily, the diversion works as planned and the two of them start recounting the customers they saw last night. They all fall into easy conversation and before he knows it, it’s time to get ready for work. He stretches and stands, picking up his clothes and changing in the bathroom and leaning over the sink to put on more eyeliner. A minute or so is wasted on a debate of whether or not to change his jewelry out, but in the end he decides to leave it. When he leaves the bathroom he’s surprised to see Suga has changed into a work shirt as well, and is waiting for him by the door, keys in hand.

He waits until they’re out the door to ask “I thought Ennoshita worked tonight?” Suga descends the stairs and Akaashi follows, watching his bobbing silver head.

“He was, but he’ll be late, and you know how Asahi gets when it’s dark, and I can’t justify calling in one of the others on their day off for just an hour or so.” Suga fiddles with his keys a moment before finding the right one and unlocking the back door, smiling brightly as he hold it open for him. “I don’t really have any plans tonight anyways.”

He keeps his face neutral “You really are too nice of a boss.”

Suga throws his head back and barks out a laugh “Is that really something you should say to your boss.”

Akaashi avoids eye contact as they both don aprons “No, but I can say it to a friend.”

The laughter stops abruptly and he feels a hand on his shoulder, he forces himself to meet the warm brown eyes he knows are watching him. They’re kind and honest, but his gaze still feels intimidating, it’s odd to be living with two people who give and receive affection so easily.

He speaks up after a few seconds “Thank you for worrying Akaashi, but really you shouldn’t. Besides, you have your own problems.”  The smile on Suga’s face spreads into a full-on grin. “Like Noya being ready to leave soon.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes but is grateful for the tension being dissolved. He gives a mock salute and walks through the kitchen to relieve Noya.

When he gets to the floor he sees Noya leaning on the counter, smiling and waving at the couple that was leaving. He brightens visibly once he sees Akaashi and bounds up to him. “Hey there Akaashi, how’ve you been? Keeping out of trouble?”

“Yeah, and I’m doing well, I suppose.” He  **does**  keep out of trouble, technically.

Noya laughs, his small shoulders shaking with it. “Well, that’s good! So, Hinata is helping you with the dinner rush today, then I think he’s taking off once it slows down, he said something about a test tomorrow.” Akaashi nods as he looks out over the floor, it doesn’t look too bad yet, but they always pick up around nine or so. They both look over at the sound of the kitchen door opening to see Asashi standing outside of it. Noya gives a thousand-watt smile and unties his robe before ducking into the employee room to discard it. Asahi gives Akaashi a nervous smile as he waits for him and Akaashi gives what he hopes is a reassuring smile as he sits in a booth near the back, waiting on new customers. 

He knows he intimidates the guy, but he honestly hopes that he isn’t that scared of him…

He returns Noya’s enthusiastic wave with significantly less energy as the two leave and he’s given a few moments of piece at his end of the restaurant. It doesn’t last long though, as the first of the dinner rush appear and Akaashi finds himself occupied for the next few hours. The next time he gets a chance to sit isn’t until around eleven, and even then he has two tables and a booth, but the tables are couples and the guy sitting in the booth is a regular that’s doing work on his laptop for the most part.

The rest of the night passes like this for the most part, people wandering in and out. Suga leaves after the dinner rush, which Ennoshita managed to show up for, and not a lot of people order food, so Ennoshita and Akaashi end up idly chatting over coffee in the kitchen as they wait for customers, to show up, to order something, to pay.  

Akaashi’s just sat down to watch Ennoshita make some pancakes when he hears the bell over the door ding. He sighs and stands up, ignoring Ennoshita’s laugh and walks towards the kitchen door, pausing at what he sees when he looks out of the tiny window set inside the door.

It’s one of the cops from the riot police last night. His hair is styled and he’s not in uniform but it’s him alright. The one who’s helmet Oikawa snatched. The helmet that Akaashi defaced. That cop knows too. _I just had to be a little shit about it, didn’t I? Fuck._

“Fuck.” Ennoshita gives him a concerned look as he ducks to the side so he’s not visible through the window. Of fucking course, of all the diners. And why the hell is that guy with Kuroo anyway? They couldn’t be partners, could they? The back of his head hits the wall with a soft ‘thunk’.

Ennoshita sets down his spatula, eyeing him warily. “You okay there?” Akaashi starts bending his fingers idly, feeling a bit more relaxed as his knuckles crack.

“The guys that just walked in are cops.” Akaashi takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, thinking through his options.

“And? Cops come here all the time.” Ennoshita picks his spatula back up and pokes at the pancakes, beginning to flip them.

“These ones know who I am, or rather what I, uh, get up to.” He takes a deep breath again, thinking through his options. _Kuroo doesn’t seem like the type to cause a scene intentionally, and it is late, but maybe I should duck out and let Ennoshita take over, just until-_

His rapid train of thought is cut off by Ennoshita huffing from his station. “Do they have anything on you?”

Akaashi’s brain slows to a halt. “No, they don’t.” He sees the cook nodding his head in the periphery of his vision. Right. He's done nothing that they can prove. He stays out of cameras and cover his tracks. That cop **knows**  he did it, but he can’t prove it.

Not exacerbating the situation is his only goal. He really doesn't want to cause any trouble for Suga. He squares his shoulders and stands in front of the door, keeping his face neutral he pushes the door open.

“Welcome to Suga’s.”  Kuroo’s face brightens as he gets closer, but his friend’s twists into a suspicious glare, his mouth flat and eyebrows drawn low. Akaashi can’t help but raise an eyebrow at him once he’s standing in front of him. _It’s only a matter of-_

“YOU!” The cop in front of him throws his arm out and suddenly his finger is way too close to Akaashi’s face. He feels his eyebrow creep even further towards his hairline as he eyes the finger in his face before following the (admittedly very nice) arm attached to it up to the man’s face.

“Can I seat you?” Kuroo’s looking between the two of them without his usual smirk.

“You two know each other?” He might not be smirking but Akaashi still hears amusement in his voice. Of course Kuroo would get entertainment out of this. Not that he can blame him, this guy seems like he’s pretty easily riled up.

He speaks up before Kuroo’s friend (partner?) can “I saw him at the protest yesterday.” Picking up two menus on his way, he walks towards the back of the diner, on the side that _isn’t_ near the kitchen. When he looks behind his shoulder he sees the shorter man whispering furiously to Kuroo, who’s leaned over slightly to accommodate him. His friend stops and Kuroo says something that makes the other to start fidgeting, then the conversation ends with Kuroo shrugging his shoulders and walking over to where Akaashi is standing in front of a booth. He decides not to acknowledge what was surely a conversation about him, craning his neck back to look at Kuroo “A booth is fine?”

Kuroo grins down at him “It’s perfect.” He turns to look at his friend who’s still standing near the entrance as he takes a seat “Hey Bokuto, bro, you can’t stand there the entire time, come on.”

Bokuto? His hair does kinda look like an owl.

Bokuto gives Akaashi another wary look, but approaches the booth, sitting across from Kuroo. He places the menus between them and pulls out his order pad, staring at it, “What drinks would you like?”

Kuroo hums “I’d _like_ something with vodka in it, but I’ll take some water right now.” Akaashi shakes his head as he writes it down, but feels a small smile at the dumb joke nonetheless.

When he looks down at Bokuto he’s staring up at him, wide-eyed, Akaashi ignores it. “And you?”

His wide golden eyes blink and he clears his throat, looking down at his menu abruptly. “Water’s fine.”

Akaashi nods “I’ll get that right out.” He turns and goes back towards the kitchen, picking up the pancakes for the couple across the diner and dropping them off and making sure they were fine before going to the drink station. He quickly fills two cups with ice and water before heading back towards their booth, taking his time. When he sets the waters on the table Kuroo is laughing at something (big surprise) and Bokuto looks equal parts embarrassed and outraged, his cheeks dusted pink.

So long as they’re not trying to take him in… “Do you know what you want to order?”

Kuroo gathers himself and nods up at Akaashi “The regular for me.” He points at the man across the booth from him without looking away “And he wants pancakes and eggs.”

Akaashi scribbles it down on their slip. “Fried or scrambled?”

When he doesn’t get an immediate response he sees Bokuto staring in concentration at the booth in front of him. “Hmmm I guess scrambled.”

He doesn’t comment and simply writes it down. He turns to take it back to the kitchen when Kuroo’s voice stops him. “Say, Akaashi, won’t you sit and talk with us while we wait for our food? It feels like it’s been forever.”

“Kuroo-san, I-”

Kuroo talks over him “I know you’re pretty busy right now,” He opens his arms and gestures widely at the open booths and table surrounding them “but maybe you could spare a minute for one of your most neglected friends.”

“Friends is a bit of a stretch.” Akaashi sighs before walking off and dropping the order off in the kitchen, returning to their booth a moment later and wearing his most put-upon expression as he stands in front of it.

Kuroo grins up at him “You should pull up a chair unless-” he scoots over to the far side of his own seat, patting the now empty space beside him “you’d like to cuddle up next to me, which I have no problems with.”

He turns and drags the nearest chair towards the space he’s standing in, not bothering to flip it around and simply sitting in it backwards, his arms folded on top of the back. Kuroo nods. “So you were at the protest yesterday too? I was there, but I didn’t see you, I was doing a kind of test run with the riot police. Me and my partner-” Kuroo cuts himself by smacking himself in the forehead with his open palm. “How rude of me, Akaashi, this is Bokuto, he’s my new partner. We might be joining the riot police soon.”

“How exciting.”

Bokuto’s golden eyes light up “Isn’t it though? Kuroo and I have been talking about it since the day we met, so it’s basically a dream come true. Although the protest yesterday was… not what I expected.” He trails off, giving Akaashi an odd look, as if he just remembered he’s talking to the person who defaced his helmet.

_Did he seriously forget?_

Kuroo noisily takes a drink of water, setting it down with an overdone ‘aah’ noise. “So, as a protestor, how do you think yesterday went? On our end it went fairly smoothly, almost no incidents, although I don’t know if what happened counts as an incident or not.” His hand moves up his chin in contemplation.

He blinks. How to word this...?

When he gets it he feels a smirk take over his face and he meets Bokuto’s eyes dead on. He looks a little lost at Akaashi’s expression. “I think it went well, I feel like our message is coming across loud and clear.”

Bokuto swallows and looks exasperated as he opens his mouth, but doesn’t get the chance to cut the sudden silence, the bell from the kitchen beating him to the punch. Akaashi stands abruptly, wiping the smirk off his face and putting the chair back before heading back to the kitchen and grabbing their plates. He’s just dropped them off when the couple at the other table starts signaling for their check. Akaashi gets them sorted and heads straight back to the kitchen, recounting the details of what just happened to Ennoshita who laughed so hard he nearly fell over.

A half hour or so passes and Akaashi’s about to wipe down the counters when Kuroo’s face pops up in the window of the kitchen door. He starts knocking on the door in obnoxious patterns and Akaashi strides over and wrenches it open, pleased when Kuroo nearly falls on his face.

“Check please?”

Akaashi rolls his eyes and picks his slip up from the counter, shoving it at Kuroo, who grabs it without even looking at it. “Is that all?”

“You could at least _try_ to stay out of trouble, y’know? Or maybe you don’t.” Kuroo’s words are offset by the fact that he can’t seem to stop giggling and Akaashi feels his the tips of his ears start burning.

He keeps his face placid as he replies though “I really can’t seem to, to be honest.”

Kuroo lets out a sharp bark of laughter before digging into his pockets, pulling out his wallet and thrusting a bill and his slip towards Akaashi. “Here.”

“Kuroo-san, let me get to the cash register please.” He tries to walk past him, but he’s blocking the doorframe. _Apparently on purpose if that look on his face is any indication._  

“Nah, keep the change.” Kuroo shrugs his shoulders and stares down at Akaashi, who raises an eyebrow but sighs and takes both from him anyway. Kuroo nods, satisfied and throws his hand up, waving over his shoulder. “Good night Akaashi.”

Bokuto’s waiting for him by the door and the two leave together. Akaashi shakes his head as he calculates out his tip, sorting the money into the cash register. When he looks up the place is empty for the first time all night. He goes to the storage room and grabs a mop and bucket, deciding to get the cleaning in while they’re empty.

His tongue piercing clacks against his teeth as he thinks over what Kuroo said. _Golden advice Kuroo. If only I cared to follow it._

He laughs at himself as he listens to the mop hitting the ground with splats and squishes, and over that, Ennoshita’s clangs every so often as he cleans the kitchen.

 _His new partner sucks though, seems like just another cop with everything to prove._ Akaashi scoffs, those are the worst. He’s seen too many of them, is too familiar with the kinds of decisions they’ll make.

_Here’s hoping I don’t run into him very often._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the newest chapter, sorry updates will be even slower from now on, I'm in a pretty intensive program for the next 16 months. If you wanna talk about this fic, or bokuaka, or anything Haikyuu my tumblr is [here](http://tuscedomask.tumblr.com/)  
> Also! My super talented friend (the one person that asked for this au) drew a gorgeous punk Akaashi [please look at it it's so good](http://abominableve.tumblr.com/tagged/Punk%21au/)

The gentle sound of compressed air being released fills the pocket of silence in the alley, broken only occasionally by the shaking of cans. The smell of paint hangs heavy and strong, trying to dull his senses and Akaashi is grateful for the bandana around his face covering his nose and mouth. He backs up a few steps to get a better look.

_Just a few more details…_

His phone beeps in his jacket pocket and he sighs as he wipes his hands on his jeans before reaching for it. At least he has clothes specifically for this. He spares a glance for his paint-splattered boots, jeans and hoodie while he puts in his phone’s passcode, when he checks his inbox he isn’t too surprised to see the text.

From: [Tipoff]

Subject: Patrol headed your way.

1 officer, maybe 5 minutes, you might’ve been seen.

  * T.



He’d expected as much, but he still curses under his breath at the time he has as he starts shoving his paint cans back in his bag. It’s what he gets for working in this part of town. But this alleyway was too perfect, it was on the route from the station to the museum and the street beside it received heavy foot traffic. The strap of his bag was strung over his shoulder haphazardly and he starts walking towards the mouth of the alley, as he gets closer though, he hears footsteps. _Shit._

He turns and looks over his shoulder, at the dead end wall, he looked to the sides and saw his best option. With a bitten back sigh he climbs on top of a garbage can and jumps up to get his hands around the ladder of the fire escape to his right, scrabbling up it before it really had a chance to fall, momentarily losing his balance as the trash can tips over and rolls off. With wheezy breath he pulls the ladder up and hopes the slight traffic and general city noise was loud enough to cover up all the noise he just made. He shifts his crouched stance so he can better see the narrow alley below him, holding the strap of his bag in place with one hand, the other tentatively wrapped around the railing of the fire escape to help him keep his balance. A breeze whistles through and he’s once more grateful for the bandana, keeping his warmth from being sapped away by winter’s last push against the city.

A shadow comes into view at the end of the alley and he freezes, turning his breaths slow and shallow. The figure stops and whistles, presumably at Akaashi’s work, taking slow steps towards it and tilting their head back. _Wait a second, that hair…_

As they get closer Akaashi confirms that it is indeed Bokuto. Clearly his life is some sort of joke he’s just not in on. After what he did at the park Akaashi is about 99% sure that the guy would jump on this situation, he’s covered in paint and less than 20 feet from fresh graffiti. If he’s caught here he’s going in for sure.

Bokuto steps closer to the art and touches his hand to it, gasping loudly and pulling his hand back, rubbing the wet paint between his fingers. His hand drops to his flashlight and he swivels his head from side to side.

_Don’t look up. Don’t look up. Don’t look up._

His inner monologue is broken when a cat a few landings up from him starts meowing. Loudly.

Bokuto’s flashlight is on and pointed up at the fire escape in seconds. Akaashi freezes like a deer in the headlights, momentarily blinded and stunned before he manages to raise his arm in an attempt to block out some of the light.

“Akaashi!” His shout is so loud that Akaashi nearly falls over from his perch. Ratted out by a cat.

Kuroo would be delighted.

“Oh, you actually remembered my name, how sweet.” He can’t seem to keep his attitude in check around this guy, although he also can’t seem to care too much about pissing off another cop.

He can’t see the guys face beyond the glare of his flashlight but Akaashi would put winning money on him being pissed now. “You should just come down, you don’t want me coming up there.” He’s surprised that the voice holds no venom, only weariness.

Akaashi decides to simply turn his back to Bokuto if he won’t drop the light, it’s really starting to hurt his eyes. His hands drop and he uses them for balance as he turns his back to the alley and settles his weight against the railing, legs bent so that he’s staring at his knees. “Even if you _could_ make it up here, how would you get me back down?”

Silence is his only answer and Akaashi sighs. “So the plan is to just stand there with the flashlight on me? Is that the new protocol, pig?”

“I’m thinking. And did you forget my name?” His tone is genuinely curious and Akaashi can’t help but snort.

“Nope, but I feel like pig is a good nickname, all things considered.” Despite the situation he feels a smirk tug on his lips.

“Akaaaaashi!” He doesn’t think he’s ever heard his name said like that before. How annoying.

He stands abruptly, feeling the fires escape shake slightly as he does so. “You could at least turn off the light, if you’re not going to just leave me be.” He’s surprised when he sees and hears the light click off, turning and looking over his shoulder to see Bokuto putting it back in its place on his belt. Turning all the way around he sets his arms against the railing, meeting his gaze when he snaps his head back up towards him.

“Now will you come down?” His golden eyes are surprisingly earnest and Akaashi almost feels bad.

He rolls his eyes though “I like it up here. I can see a lot and there’s no pigs.”

Bokuto looks legitimately hurt, eyes soft and mouth screwed up and Akaashi wonders if this guy is cut out to be a cop. “That’s rude.”

“Maybe.” Akaashi starts examining under his fingernails, idly wondering if he should start wearing gloves, even if it is getting into the warmer seasons.

“I’m giving you to the count of three.” When he looks down Bokuto’s arms are crossed and he’s giving him what Akaashi thinks is supposed to be a stern look. “One…”

“I’m terrified.” He doesn’t have to try too hard for the deadpan stare to accompany his tone.

“Two…” Bokuto tilts his head slightly but his gaze doesn’t waver.

Akaashi meets his stare dead on, not budging an inch except to shrug his shoulders.

“Three!” He lunges forward and leaps at the ladder, gripping the bottom rung in both hands and letting it fall to the ground with his weight.

He feels his jaw dropping with the ladder. That guy really just caught the ladder in a single bound. Feet frozen for a few seconds, he finds himself staring at the ladder dropping, but he shakes himself out of it.

This is a chance.

Akaashi swings first one leg over the railing, then the other, facing the landing to keep an eye on the ladder as he wraps his hands around the railing and crouches.

The second the ridiculous spiked up hair comes into view he drops further, gripping the edge of the platform and letting his legs dangle only a few seconds before dropping completely. Luckily he lands in a crouch and doesn’t bother looking behind him before he stands and takes off in a full sprint.

“AKAASHI! ARE YOU OKAY?!” The shout is accompanied by the frantic sound of boots running across the landing. He almost pauses at the words, _he really needs to get his priorities straight_ , but keeps going.

He can lose him in the park, and he should have a lead since the guy will climb down.

His train of thought is derailed by a clang.

Bokuto did not just jump down. Nope. Akaashi turns the corner of the alleyway and runs the few blocks towards the park.

The sound of Bokuto’s footsteps follows close behind him and he **knows** now that the crazy cop definitely jumped. He must’ve really irked him with the helmet stunt.

He doesn’t slow down when he hits the park, giving his all as he runs off the path and towards the nearest pedestrian bridge over the river. The cover of the trees seems to help him as he hears the steps behind him slow and get further away.

Once he reaches the bridge he turns and doesn’t see him anywhere, so he scrabbles down the retaining wall, hiding under the bridge with his back tucked against the concrete behind him. The sound of the river rushing in front of him covers the sounds of his breath and any approaching footsteps.

Akaashi stays there for what feels like hours, but when he pulls out his phone he sees that only 30 minutes have passed. He decides to try to make his way back home, but stays on the walkway near the river as long as he can, hugging the retaining wall to try to blend into the shadows.

By the time Akaashi makes it home the sky is starting to get lighter and he strips down to his boxers, shoving his paint stained clothes into their box in the corner before collapsing into his bed. He at least has the foresight to pull the curtains around his window closed and pulls his comforter up over his head, an attempt to block the light he knows is coming.

His last conscious thoughts are tainted with frustration at the painting he didn’t get to finish.

* * *

 

When Akaashi wakes hours later it’s to Suga at the foot of his bed, shaking him gently.

His entire body, no his entire existence is pain, throbbing knees, ache-y shoulders, and a headache that can only be explained by tiny men driving tiny sledgehammers into his cranium from the inside.

Suga’s voice is soft and gentle “It’s almost 5, are you feeling okay?”

Akaashi groans and flinches at how gravelly his own voice is “No, but I will be.” He rolls over and rubs at his eyes.

He feels Suga move around and then there’s a mug in front of his face and the smell of coffee surrounding him. Sitting up and settling against his pillows he takes the mug from him, taking a deep breath of coffee before sipping at it. “You didn’t have to.” He doesn’t move his mouth from the rim of the mug, speaking over it.

“No, but I figured if I were waking you up you could use motivation.” Akaashi simply hums in reply before taking another sip. Suga shudders at him “Although I still don’t understand how you can drink it black.”

“That’s simple, you just have to have a dark enough soul.” He fights the smile tugging at his lips and meets Suga squarely in the eyes.

Suga just rolls his eyes and pats Akaashi on the leg. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You broody artist types are so dramatic.”

Akaashi snorts and gulps at his coffee now. “Well thanks again for the coffee.”

 “Of course! Let me know if you need any painkillers!” Suga gets up and clambers down Akaashi’s ladder. Akaashi lays in bed, listening to Suga moving around in the kitchen for a few minutes before managing to crawl out from under his blankets and gathering some clothes, trying to clean up the space around his bed a bit. He manages to toss most of his dirty laundry into his hamper and calls it good before going down the ladder, cursing at the pain in his knee when it accidentally knocks against the third step. When he gets to the bottom he stands there for a few minutes, staring dumbly at his knee, which is slightly swollen and an interesting shade of yellow.

“Huh.” Akaashi remembers all of last night, but his knee hadn’t felt bad at all. Well maybe a little sore, but it was mostly blocked out by his running-from-cops adrenaline.

He hears Suga stop whatever he was doing and feels his concerned gaze on him, when he looks up to him his eyes are wide and his brow is pinched, but his hands are still drying the skillet in his hands. “Akaashi that looks bad, what happened?”

Okay so, historically, checking wounds in front of Suga is a bad idea, he’s really out of it this morning. “I fell down last night, it doesn’t even really hurt I just need some aspirin for the swelling.”

Suga’s eyes narrow immediately and he clucks his tongue, turning and setting his dishrag and skillet on the counter, opening the freezer. “Go sit down.” His voice is muffled while he rummages through the freezer and when he turns back around, with frozen peas in hand, he frowns at Akaashi, who hasn’t moved.

Akaashi can feel the mom voice coming, can see it in the way his eyes harden and his lips thin, just a little.

“Akaashi.” The tone suggests that Suga is willing to resort to counting.

He carefully keeps his voice flat and neutral. “I don’t need to sit, I need to eat and then get ready for work.”

Suga’s silvery hair floats around his face as he shakes his head and crosses his arms, peas still in his grasp. “Your shift doesn’t start for nearly three hours. _If_ you’re even going in today.”

Akaashi fights the genuine annoyance rising in him, he really can’t stand being told what to do. Even if Suga is his combination landlord/employer. He really does not have the temperament for this kind of argument right now.

He fights the urge to roll his eyes, or sigh, or fidget with his hands. “I’m fine, I’ve worked with worse than this.”

Suga’s shoulders droop as he drops his arms, letting them hang loosely at his sides, pea bag still in hand, but his voice remains soft. “Alright, now you’re definitely not going in.” Akaashi feels defiant rage roaring up in him, loud and ugly, but then he meets Suga’s eyes and is met with something soft. The anger fizzles out like a match thrown in water at the sight of the genuine concern there.

His own shoulders droop and he moves his line of sight, studying the crack in the cabinet nearest to him. Old habits die hard though, and he finds the words flying out of his mouth without thought, cringing at his own tone. “Who’s going to cover for me? Oikawa has a set, and you worked this morning. And-”

“Noya wanted to pick up some more shifts.” Suga advances towards him with a soft smile and the peas outstretched.

Akaashi huffs, just a little, before taking the bag from him and sitting on the couch. “You’ll have to explain to my landlord why I’m short rent then.” He looks up at Suga who’s pushing a pillow under his knee and rearranging the pea bag, which Akaashi had apparently not done properly.

Suga smiles wryly and shoots him a bright smile “I think he’ll understand.” He straightens and walks back into the kitchen.

Akaashi rolls his eyes now and settle back, staring blankly at the ceiling. “I don’t know, he’s a pretty pushy guy.”

He almost wishes he could see Suga’s face, the noise he makes sounds promising, somewhere between a snort and a choke, but then he just dissolves into giggles that last a minute or so. “Well, I’m sure he’s not completely unreasonable.”

“Remains to be seen.” Akaashi shifts some more, letting his head rest on the back of the armrest and simply listens to the sounds of Suga bustling around in the kitchen. After a few minutes or so, almost impossibly, he feels sleep dragging him down.

He fights it for a few minutes, but it’s a losing battle with how comfortable he’s gotten and soon he’s slipping back into unconsciousness.  

* * *

When he comes to again, it’s to Suga sitting in the armchair, studying one of his notebooks where he jots down new recipe ideas. Akaashi tries not to stare, but finds himself zoning out on the worn cover, studying its cracks and creases as his mind wanders aimlessly. In the back of his mind he registers that it’s dark out, and that he doesn’t feel anything cold on his knee anymore. He should really have noticed that Suga had neither written anything nor turned a page for as long as he’d been staring, but he’s still pulled sharply out of his post-sleep haze when Suga clears his throat.

“How does your knee feel?” His eyes don’t lift from the page in front of him.

Akaashi shifts it a little and pulls up the blanket that wasn’t there when he fell asleep, the color hasn’t changed, but the swelling is down and it only gives a slight pang when he bends it. “Better.”

“Well that’s good.” Suga finally flips a page and writes something down.

He throws the blanket off and sits up, cracking his neck and knuckles before getting up and walking into the kitchen. The dryness in the back of his throat demands a cup of water, and the persistent overall body aches demands an ibuprofen, so he gets both in short order, grateful that Suga had left the bottle of painkillers on the counter.

A glance down at his clothing reminds him that his phone is still in the loft and he mentally curses at his lack of foresight before resigning himself to climb up the ladder again. Looking around his mess he decides to use his impromptu night off to get at least one aspect of his life more put together. The dirty laundry is easy enough, most of it is stuffed into a laundry bag and thrown over the edge of the loft, the cleaner stuff takes a bit more time, but it all eventually winds up either hung up or folded and put away in the closet and drawers inset in the walls. With the laundry done all that’s left are the sheets of paper left everywhere, and he can’t bring himself to throw any of his random doodles away so he stacks them together, as well as he can at least, and shoves them between the wall and bed. Already feeling better, he finally sits on the edge of his bed and unlocks his phone, surprised that he has a few emails and texts. He saves the texts for later and goes straight for the emails.

The majority are threads from the artists he met up with a few days ago, wanting advice from the group or discussing some of the recent events. But the last one.

He puts his phone away and pulls out his laptop, pulling his writing tablet out from the closet while he waits for it to start up. When it finally does he goes straight to his email on that too and writes up a quick reply, double-checking it before sending it out and then opening a new file on his writing software.

It takes a while for him to get any ideas, but when he finally does he can’t keep the smile off his face as he saves the file under the name:

Comission1


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Oikawa, more park, more actual bokuaka interaction

Suga sets the tray down in front of Akaashi, beaming down at him before sitting down beside him. “I’m so happy for you! Your first commission, have they said anything more?” Akaashi watches the steam curl up from the coffee mugs and feels his face split into a small smile.

He picks up the mug and breathes in the smell of coffee before answering “They love the drafts I sent and they want to schedule a consult.” Warm arms are suddenly around him, squeezing tightly and his face and neck must be pretty red from how warm they feel.

“I am so, so happy for you. That artist’s network really helped, huh?” He’s released from the hug just as quickly as he was dragged into it and he smiles back at Suga’s bright face.

Suga turns and picks up the pieces of pie from the tray, handing one to Akaashi, who barely sets his mug down in time to receive it. “I hope the cherry is alright, I just grabbed some leftovers from downstairs. Oh! I can make you one later.” Akaashi rolls his eyes as he brings the first bite to his mouth.

The pie is predictably delicious, even cold as it is Akaashi can tell Suga made it. “You’re fussing too much, there’s no need to make me a pie.”

A hum is the only response he gets and they both sit in silence for the next few minutes, sipping coffee between bites of pie. Eventually they finish both dessert and drink and the cups and plates are set back on the tray. Suga breaks the silence “So, is there anything at all you would like to do to celebrate?”

It takes a moment, but it eventually hits him “Do you know where Oikawa’s show is tonight?”

* * *

 

By the time Akaashi arrives it looks like Oikawa’s just setting up for his set, and he manages to catch him on his way to the bar. The smell of alcohol and the enthusiasm of the hug he’s receiving tells Akaashi that he’s been scouting potential clients, or enthusiastically socializing, or both. They were the same thing to him, after all.

“What are you doing here? Don’t get me wrong I love when you come to my shows, but I thought you had work? And you looked pretty bad earlier, sleeping so late isn’t like you.” Oikawa releases his from the hug but keeps his hands on Akaashi’s shoulders, their faces are less than a foot away to be heard over the music and the crowd.

“I had a rough night, Suga made me take today off. But that’s not why I’m here, I got commissioned!” Once the words register to Oikawa he’s brought into another crushing embrace and he feels the wet smack of a kiss against his cheek and then he hears him speaking directly into his ear.

“That’s such great news, oh my god! I’m so happy for you! Once I finish my set you have to let me buy you a drink and you can give me details!” He pulls back once more and his hands slide down to clasp Akaashi’s and he gives a firm squeeze before smiling at him and then turning to rush back up to the stage.

Shaking his head, he makes his way to the bar, listening to the club owner introduce Oikawa with all the requisite ego-stroking. He’s one of Akaashi’s oldest friends, but he’s a whirlwind, trying to keep up with him exhausts him, but on a night like tonight, he finds he might have the necessary willpower. After all, it feels like forever since they truly hung out, although a crowded club isn’t Akaashi’s ideal place to catch up, it’s hard to catch Oikawa not in one if he’s not home or at the diner. Even before his dj career took off, he was a local at most clubs, and most regulars and owners know him if only by reputation, he has a way of ingraining himself in a way that’s hard to ignore, or tolerate, depending on who you are.

Before meeting him, Akaashi definitely would have thrown himself into the latter category, and if they had met in a club that might have been the case, but they didn’t. They met outside a club that Akaashi was using as a canvas, so he got the rare privilege of meeting Oikawa one-on-one and having to deal with being the focus of his attentions. After he catches the bartender’s attention and gets himself a drink he simply sits at the bar, listening to the music echoing around the club, Oikawa’s gotten pretty good. A small smile finds its way onto his face as he’s drawn once more to the memory of their first meeting, objectively it was pretty funny. Oikawa had been tipsy, flirty and a nuisance to Akaashi, who hadn’t even been properly in the city a week and was really not interested at all, it was only his second time doing graffiti and this model type wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone. Akaashi did his absolute best to be prickly and generally awful, but the guy didn’t stop until the third flat out rejection, then his demeanor took a complete 180 degrees and he asked if Akaashi wanted to be his new roommate.

Needless to say Akaashi was left speechless, he totally botched the piece and left the alley with a number on his arm, in a daze that left him wondering if he was contact high from something in the club. Two days later his building’s lights and water were off so he figured he’d give it a shot, and the rest was pretty much history. Oikawa was the oldest friend he had, he was by no means perfect, but he was there when no one else was, which was more than enough for Akaashi. He’d wondered a lot, what it was that made him give him his number that night, most of the time Oikawa answered that Akaashi was pretty and he had been drunk and maybe a bit high. Although once he said that people who rejected him were always interesting, and he needed a roommate that wouldn’t be charmed by his looks and personality. Akaashi is almost certain that’s the truth of the matter, although he can never know for sure with Oikawa. He sips more of his drink and spins on his stool to watch the crowd of dancing bodies, letting his eyes wander aimlessly under the flashing neon. Inspiration bubbles and fizzes in the back of his mind, at the way one girls’ feet turn and spin in effortless motions, or how one guys’ hair bounces as he jumps. All the motion under such colorful lights gives him plenty of ideas and he tries his hardest to commit these moments to memory, what he sees and how it makes him feel.

A few hours later and Oikawa is finally getting off the stage and Akaashi is only on his second drink, somehow. He sips on the last of it as he watches Oikawa fight through the crowd of drunk, high partygoers who all want to praise him, or bang him, or both. It’s really a testament to their friendship that Oikawa is politely pushing past all of them to talk to him, almost flattering considering he’s waited hours to get a word in edge-wise in similar situations before. When he finally reaches the bar he hardly stops before just grabbing Akaashi by the wrist and pulling him along behind him. They pass a bouncer and climb a short stairway and then they’re in one of the private rooms overlooking the dance floor, music and crowd muffled from behind the glass.

Akaashi gives the room a cursory glance and pauses at the sight of two drinks -They’re clear, something with vodka? Tequila? No telling with Oikawa- already on the table. “Oikawa did you reserve this room?”

A smug grin slides onto his face and Akaashi already regrets asking. “My dearest Aka-chan, as per my agreement with this establishment’s owner-” He keeps his eyes on Akaashi and flops back onto one of the plush chairs, picking up one of the drinks and taking a sip “anytime I play here, this room will remain open so that I may relax after a show.” He sits back and throws his arms across the back of the chair, letting the drink dangle from his hand and his legs stretch out straight in front of him.

“Well now I’m afraid to sit down anywhere.” Akaashi picks up the other drink and takes a sip, not vodka or tequila, ginger ale. His face scrunches, he’ll truly never understand Oikawa.

Oikawa puts his hand over his chest, eyes blown wide in shock and offense. “I’ll have you know I do not get up to anything illicit in this room.” Akaashi rolls his eyes, but sits in the other chair nonetheless, ignoring Oikawa’s nod of approval. “So, tell me about the job?”

Akaashi goes through the details, everything he has so far, at least, and describing the ideas he has. By the end of it Oikawa is siting forward, his elbows on his knees and bright eyes focused wholly on Akaashi. “That’s so great Aka-chan! How exciting, I’m glad that group came through.”

Suddenly he finds it hard to handle Oikawa’s keen eyes and he cuts his eyes away briefly before changing subjects. “Your show was great too, sorry I haven’t been to one in a while. You’ve improved a lot.”

He doesn’t comment on the abrupt subject change and simply throws his head back and sighs. “Yeah, my online traffic has picked up some too. The recognition is pretty great.”

“You didn’t exactly have a hard time getting attention before you were playing at clubs.” Akaashi takes a sip of the ginger ale again, feeling the pleasant buzz of alcohol fading away.

 Oikawa tilts his head back forward, squinting at Akaashi. “Being recognized for my looks is obvious, but finally people know I’m not just a pretty face.”

“All of your friends know that already, though.” The comment is out before he thinks about it, it should be obvious, but sometimes Oikawa was oblivious to that kind of thing. He thinks it might be a mistake with the sudden grin that overtakes his face and the gleam he gets in his eyes, though.  

“Aww Aka-chan that’s so sweet.” Oikawa has leaped out of his chair and across the room, smooshing their faces together before Akaashi even had a chance to blink. He doesn’t reciprocate the hug, but he doesn’t fight it either, even though Oikawa is damp with sweat and he’s pretty sure someone spilled their drink on him at some point with how strongly he smells of alcohol.

He’s finally released and stands up right after Oikawa does, turning his body towards the door. “I should be getting home…”

A gasp fills the quiet room and he feels hands on his shoulders before he’s spun to face Oikawa once more. “But you haven’t danced yet! You can’t go to a club and not dance, you know the rules!”

“Oikawa you made up the rules, I never agreed to them because you were very drunk when you made them.” Akaashi grabs Oikawa’s wrists and lifts them from his shoulders.

In a display of his true maturity, Oikawa sticks out his bottom lip, letting his eyes drop a bit. It’s a bit ridiculous considering Oikawa has a few inches on Akaashi, and after all the years he’s known him his resolve is a bit too strong to fall at the sight of a pout. “It’s been so long since we danced though, Aka-chan, and you haven’t been to one of my shows in a few months.” He does feel his resolve crumble a bit at that, though.

He looks behind Oikawa, at the crowd on the dance floor that has thinned considerably in the time they’ve been talking. “One dance, two if you keep your hands to yourself.”

His eyes light up, but he somehow still tries to defend himself. “How do you dance with someone without touching them? And besides it’s not my fault you’re so cute when you dance.” He turns and walks to the door, holding it open for him.

“You just like getting grabby with whoever you dance with.” As he passes through the door Oikawa walks with him, settling an arm across his shoulders.

“Mmm, only the cute ones.”

* * *

 

They’re wandering home an hour later, both a little wobbly from the drinks they’d had between dances, because of course Oikawa managed to get him to dance to at least 10 songs. Akaashi might be annoyed, but it’s hard to be truly upset with the pleasant buzz from the alcohol and the earnest grin Oikawa has on his face as he hums beside him.

Oikawa suddenly stops, yanking Akaashi from where he’s interlocked their arms and staring up at the sky with a sigh. “This reminds me of when we barely knew each other, remember how I used to drag you to every party with me?”

Akaashi looks up at the sky too and snorts, feeling his shoulders shake with the noise. “Yeah, you’d insist I had to meet people to make it in the city and then hardly ever introduced me to anyone. I don’t think I’ve even seen any of those people in years.”

Oikawa lifts his free hand to sweep it through his hair, which is of course nearly perfect, despite the sweating he _saw_ him do. “Yeah, but people really liked you, you know. Do you know how many people wanted to have a threesome with the two of us? Although to be fair you never really spoke to anyone, so it was mostly your looks.” He can feel Oikawa’s shoulders shake as he laughs at that, as if it were a really funny joke.

“Wasn’t that the exact reason you dragged me out everywhere?” He raises his eyebrows and watches his friend break down to giggles, shoulders hunched forward.

“It was-” He makes a truly undignified squawking noise but chokes the rest of the sentence out “I just remembered that time some guy thought you were my escort.”

Akaashi snorts again then dissolves into full blown laughter. “I- I punched him in the face. We got kicked out and you didn’t talk to me for a few days.”

He feels Oikawa’s arm tighten around his own and he starts moving them forward again with a sigh and a few more giggles. “That place had great daiquiris. Although I guess I’m not banned anymore, since they asked me to play there.”

His own laughter dies out and they round the corner and he can see the diner glowing in the distance like a beacon. He can’t remember feeling this happy in a while, and his chest fills with warmth at the sight of home.

They make it exactly one block before a familiar silhouette emerges from an alley, clucking their tongue at them. “I know you two keep an irregular schedule, but wandering home at 5?”

Oikawa answers before Akaashi can even open his mouth. “We just never learn, officer-kun, we’re simply trapped in our rebellious party phase.”

A small smile lifts the corners of his mouth “Kuroo-san, why are you hanging around the diner like a creep?”

Kuroo folds his arms and scrunches his eyebrows close. “Is it creepy? I’m not in uniform or anything.”

Akaashi’s face slips back into its usual deadpan. “I can’t tell if that makes it more or less creepy.”

“Aka-chan brings up a valid point, why are you just skulking around the diner, officer-kun?”  Oikawa tilts his head slightly, and Akaashi can tell from the look in his hazy eyes that he’s trying to figure it out.

“You guys choose such harsh words.” Kuroo unfolds his arms to place a hand over his heart. “I’ll have you know I’m here because someone is worried about our dear Akaashi.”

Oikawa’s head snaps around and he finds himself under the direct scrutiny of his gaze, which is unnerving, even after all the years he’s known him. Not to mention he can’t figure out who would ask _Kuroo_ of all people to check on him.

His face must relay his confusion because Kuroo drops his hand and sighs “Bokuto, he says you landed on your knee wrong last night? And that you were favoring one leg.” Akaashi finds himself thoroughly annoyed once more, partially at the amusement on Kuroo’s face, but mostly at the fact that a police officer was _worried about him?_

The pleasant buzz of the alcohol doesn’t stand a chance against the irritation blazing alight within him. “Well, I’m walking so you can tell him I’m fine. And then you can inform him that my well-being is none of his business.”

He can feel Oikawa’s gaze still on him as he disentangles their arms, calculating his response, but he really doesn’t care and makes to walk past Kuroo. No move is made to stop him, but the weight of both their eyes on him makes him walk slower.

When he’s a foot or so past Kuroo he hears him speak, voice soft. “He’s a good guy, y’know, he only wants what’s best for people. He’s just-”

Akaashi feels wholly too old, too bitter, to hear any of it. “He’s in the wrong profession for that.” He doesn’t bother looking behind him and walks straight on to the apartment. It’s dark when he opens the door and he doesn’t bother turning on any lights before visiting the bathroom and then climbing his ladder to collapse on his bed.

Despite his best efforts, he’s still awake when Oikawa unlocks the door and he stays perfectly still, trying to give no indication that he’s awake. He knows it’s childish, but he really doesn’t want to talk to him right now. He doesn’t particularly feel like talking to anyone right now, he can’t tell if he can blame to abrupt mood swing on the alcohol, but it certainly didn’t help. He’s almost ashamed of how immaturely he reacted, but he can’t imagine what kind of reaction Kuroo was hoping for.

When he finally falls asleep it’s fitful and light.

* * *

 

He wakes up to the sun beating down on him and when he rolls over and picks up his phone he’s not surprised to see that it’s only half past noon, but he’s wide awake. The messages from last night are finally checked, and it turns out it was mostly Suga trying to check on him, a few from Kuroo, and one from someone in the artist’s network. The apartment is so quiet it’s suffocating, making him want to hold his breath as he goes down his ladder, internally cursing the way it creaks and groans under his weight. He doesn’t bother checking to see if anyone’s home before ducking into the bathroom, taking a quick shower and changing the earrings in his third lobe piercings before going back up to his loft to grab his keys, phone and a notebook and pencils, shoving them in his duffel bag and then heading down to the diner.

Since he’s not going in for work he decides to go in through the front, the bell ding of the bell barely heard in the afternoon rush. After a quick scan of the floor he finds Suga talking to an elderly couple at a table, smiling at them before meeting Akaashi’s eyes and motioning for him to follow him back to the kitchen.

Once they’re back there Suga picks a basket of fries out of the oil and pulls some patties out of the fridge, throwing them on a grill. “What’s up Akaashi? Want some lunch?”

“That’d be nice.” Akaashi leans back against the wall and watches Suga work.

A burger is added to the grill and Suga hums. “Any particular reason you came down, other than food?”

Akaashi finds himself zoning out on a crack in the tile. “Not really, I’m going to meet my customers so I’ll be out most of the day.”

Suga smiles at him and moves to the fryer to put some fries on a plate, stealing a few before handing it to Akaashi. They’re almost too hot to eat, but they don’t burn his tongue, so he swallows them down before they can get cold and as he puts the last of them in his mouth Suga snatches the plate from it and returns it to him with the addition of a burger.

“Thanks.” Akaashi moves to the shelf of condiments to put everything he wants (which is pretty much everything) on the burger.

In the time he takes to eat the burger, Suga has put out four orders and starts five more. Asahi gets back from what Akaashi assumes was a break, waves to Akaashi and wordlessly takes over the grill.

Akaashi sets his plate in the sink and rinses it before he turns to Suga, who is putting more fries into the oil. “I’ll be going now, do you need anything?”

Suga shakes his head “Not that I can think of now, but I’ll text you if I think of something. Wait, if you go by that little sweets shop near the park you should get some of those lemon drops, I have an idea for a pie.”

“Okay. See you later.” He decides to take the back door to leave, not wanting to face the lunch crowd again.

* * *

 

A few hours later finds him walking out of the candy shop in a markedly better mood, he could almost whistle as he shoves the lemon drops into his duffel. It feels almost odd to be out and about so early, well, early for him, at least.

The sun beaming on his face feels almost foreign, and he makes the decision to sit in the park for a bit. It`s quiet when he gets to a bench near the statues, the protests have left the museum, for now, at least, and it looks almost empty. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, focusing his mind on the sounds of the park, the way the leaves rustle in the wind, the whistling of the birds. It’s nice, peaceful even.

“HEY! AKAASHI!”

Well, it was a nice minute or so.

He picks his head back up and groggily opens his eyes, taking in the sight of Bokuto in uniform and looking for all the world like he just stumbled upon an old friend.

“Do you need something?” Akaashi is past the point of being courteous, strangers are lucky if he’s remotely polite, let alone people that have chased him across the city.

Bokuto either doesn’t notice that he doesn’t want to talk to him, or he doesn’t care; somehow the former seems more annoying. “Nah, just wanted to talk.” He sits down on the bench beside him, a little close for comfort, but Akaashi will be damned if he’s moving.

“What on earth do we have to talk about?” He doesn’t look over at him, but he can see Bokuto studying his face from his periphery, those wide gold eyes scanning over his features, but in a way that doesn’t feel as if he’s searching for anything. It leaves him feeling more exposed than when Oikawa or Kuroo stares at him, which is saying a lot. He cracks his first knuckle on his left hand.

“Well, I was talking to Kuroo, and he said if we patrol that area a lot, we’d probably see a lot of you. So I figured it would make everyone’s lives easier if we got to be friends like you and Kuroo are.” At that he turns and studies Bokuto’s face, but his eyes are earnest, as is the grin on his face.

He sighs and keeps his gaze steady on him “Does that really seem like the best idea to you? And I would hardly call Kuroo a friend.”

“Kuroo thought it was a good idea, and I’d say you guys are friends, he kinda stuck up for you.”

Akaashi, turns his head away, closes his eyes, and, very slowly, lets out his breath through his nose. “Alright, whatever, pig.”

He hears Bokuto breathe in sharply “That’s still very rude, I know you know my name and I don’t like that nickname!”

“Well that’s unfortunate for you.” Akaashi leans forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees, ignoring the defensive posture of the officer beside him. “Don’t you have something to be doing? This seems like a waste of taxpayer’s money.”

“I’m on break, and you call Kuroo by name, why do I have to be pig?” His chest is puffing out, Akaashi can see it from his periphery, and he rolls his eyes.

“Kuroo-san is a rare exception.”

“To what? Your dislike of policemen?” It almost sounds like a rhetorical question.

Akaashi stands up and stretches, not bothering to turn to him as he answers “Yes.” He starts walking towards the park’s exit, adjusting the strap of his duffel and ignoring the sound of Bokuto scrambling after him.

“Hold up! I can walk you home, or wherever you’re going.” He stumbles a bit when he hears those words, boot catching on an even bit of sidewalk and he loses his balance and starts to fall. He throws his arms out to catch himself and braces for it but then Bokuto is right there, holding him steady by the elbow.

The tips of his ears and cheeks are burning hot as he stands back up straight, moving his feet to accommodate the few inches forward his balance was thrown. “Thank you.” The words come out automatically, his semi-fried brain operating on auto-pilot. Distantly he registers that the hand is still wrapped around his elbow, and wow did he keep him from falling with one hand alone? That is mildly impressive. He looks down at the hand circling his arm and it’s pulled back quickly, as if burned. When he looks at Bokuto’s face he’s looking away somewhat sheepishly.

“No problem, so are you headed home or…?” He’s rubbing at the back of his neck and staring past Akaashi.

Akaashi forms a rejection of his offer and opens his mouth to deliver it, but is cut off by the crackle of the radio on Bokuto’s shoulder. It sounds mostly like some foreign language, but he makes out the name of an intersection that’s only about a block from the park.

He raises an eyebrow “That’s pretty close.”

Bokuto shifts his weight from foot to foot “Yeah, I uh, I’ll go help. But! I’m not giving up on this friendship Akaashi!” Without further preamble he turns and runs out of the park, but stops after crossing the street and calls over his shoulder “See you later!”

“Later, pig!” Akaashi watches the way Bokuto’s shoulders creep towards his ears, just to be sure he heard, then turns and heads down the street, towards home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk the ending just sorta happened   
> Anyways if you like this au come talk to me at my [tumblr](http://tuscedomask.tumblr.com)   
> and check out my friend Eve's art for it [here](http://abominableve.tumblr.com/tagged/Cop-Au)  
> (srsly this au is all her fault tho)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi gets in trouble, what's new.  
> (There is some beating up, though. This is your warning about that)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once more may i direct you to these arts by my friend [here](http://abominableve.tumblr.com/tagged/cop-au)  
> and my tumblr [here](http://tuscedomask.tumblr.com)

The diner is particularly busy tonight, voices overlapping into a cacophony, everyone trying to be loud enough to be heard. It makes Akaashi’s skin feel a little too tight, makes him jump when someone gets a little too excited and yells or shouts. He’s used to the diner being a shelter, and generally he can melt into the crowd, passively observe them, but that’s during the day, when he’s hardly ever helping serve. Now, it’s three in the morning and even with Suga working tonight too his section is full and he hasn’t stopped running from a table to the kitchen for at least the past hour and he really can’t wait until his break. Akaashi looks out over the crowd and thinks for the millionth time that night that there must have been a concert or university game or something, because the patrons are mostly 20-somethings, close to his own age. He drops off the checks for table 6, and picks up the empty plates from table 4, stopping along the way to the kitchen to check on booth 2. As he’s walking backwards into the kitchen he watches a group leave and notes that there’s no one waiting to be seated.

He heaves a heavy sigh as he puts the dishes on the counter next to the sink where Kageyama is elbows deep in suds. Ennoshita spares him a glance from behind the grill “Is it getting busier out there?”

“I think it’s slowing down, no one is coming in.” Akaashi checks the order before picking up the plates.

“Godspeed.” Ennoshita holds his spatula near his forehead in a mock salute that makes Akaashi roll his eyes as he backs out of the kitchen door.

After he distributes the food he looks around his section again and feels his tensed shoulders fall, just a little. Everyone has food, and a few people look close to finishing, he breathes out and heads to the register to get their checks ready.

In about 45 minutes it almost feels like a normal night again, only two or three groups left from the late-night rush. Akaashi is standing behind the register, sipping a cup of coffee and looking over the people dawdling when he hears Suga beside him.

“That was really something, I’m glad I came down tonight, and that Kageyama warned us!” When he glances over he sees him standing with his hands on his hips, looking through the window into the empty street. “You did great too, I think that was the most people you’ve ever served in a night, how do you feel?” As he asks he turns his head a bit and watches Akaashi.

He sets his mug down and idly flips through his receipts record. “Tired, it was overwhelming, I’m glad it’s over.”

Suga laughs and pats Akaashi on the back. “Yeah, it was pretty bad, I don’t know that we could handle that every night.” Akaashi picks up his mug again, drinking the coffee and grimacing when he notices it’s getting cold. “Anyway I’m gonna head up if you’ve got this?”

He doesn’t look up from his drink but simply hums, and he sees Suga leave from his periphery, then knocks back the rest of the coffee. One of the remaining groups gestures him over and he grabs their checks and heads over.

As he’s getting their change he hears the bell over the door jingle and he represses a sigh, he doesn’t bother looking up, eyes focused on the coins in his hands. “Be with you in just a minute.”

“We’ll just sit in our regular booth, yeah?” He snaps his head up at the familiar voice and doesn’t bother repressing his sigh this time, watching Kuroo and Bokuto saunter to the booth they frequent, and neither grabbing a menu.

He gets the change out and distributes it to the group, watching them stumble out the door and deliberately taking his time taking their dishes to the back. It’s petty, but the two of them have been frequenting the diner during Akaashi’s shifts for the past month. At least 3 times a week they walk in during the late evening/early morning and sit in the same booth. He really doesn’t mind regulars, in fact he’s cordial with most of them-

“Akaashi! I’d like a coffee, and what desserts are left?” But most of them don’t shout at him while he’s still in the kitchen.

When he walks out the grin on Kuroo’s face isn’t anywhere close to innocent, he doesn’t bother pointing out, for the 3rd time, that he should be able to see the dessert bar from his seat. “Some chocolate cake and lemon pie, I think.” He approaches their booth warily, and stands about 5 feet back while writing down Kuroo’s coffee order, not bothering to move his pen from the paper or look up. “What would you like to drink?”

“Oh, me? I guess a diet coke, and I know I want one of the pancake platters, with bacon and sunny-side up eggs!” Akaashi pens it all down.

“And you, Kuroo-san?”

“I’ll take the lemon pie, if there’s any. If not I’ll just have coffee.”

“Alright, I’ll get your drinks.” He turns on his heel and shoves his order pad into his apron, going back into the kitchen and telling Ennoshita the order before taking his time getting their drinks ready.

As he’s finishing pouring the coffee he spots Kageyama taking off his apron from the corner of his eye. “Are you leaving, Kageyama?”

He starts a little at the question but turns toward Akaashi nonetheless. “Y-Yes, the rush is over right?”

Akaashi senses his nervousness and forces a small smile onto his face. “It is, I was just wondering if you could give these drinks to booth 7 on your way out. I’m suddenly exhausted from the rush and wanted to take a break back here…”

“Of course! No problem.” Kageyama looks a little too enthusiastic about helping out, but Akaashi isn’t going to question it. He watches him snatch up the cups and smiles at him once more when he glances at him before exiting the door, messenger bag slung across his torso.

Ennoshita chuckles from behind the grill but doesn’t say anything.

Akaashi turns and stares at him, debating pros and cons before finally deciding to just ask. “What’s so funny?”

“Those are Kuroo and Bokuto’s drinks.” Ennoshita says it as if it explains the joke.

He continues to stare at Ennoshita “And?”

“You’re avoiding them.” He looks up from the grill and meets Akaashi’s stare, raising an eyebrow at him.

“They’re cops.” Akaashi cuts his eyes away and stares at the grill instead, watching the way the grease on the bacon pops.

He hears a snort “If they were going arrest you, they would’ve by now. I didn’t think you were that paranoid.”

Akaashi looks back up at him and he’s back to watching the food he’s making. “They want to be friends, which isn’t a very smart idea.”

Ennoshita shrugs “I though you and Kuroo were already friends.” Akaashi narrows his eyes.

“I don’t consider us friends.”

“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t.” He flips a pancake and the room is filled with quiet sizzles.

He sighs and slumps a bit, tilting his head back and staring at the ceiling. “Why would I befriend a couple of cops, it can’t possibly end well.”

“Hmm, I dunno, it might? Like they might be able to bail you out of sticky situations, or even keep you out of them in the first place.” He gives Akaashi a hopeful look. “And it’s nice to have friends, either way.”

Akaashi feels his brow inch up a bit. “I have friends.”

Ennoshita cracks two eggs onto the grill. “Okay, I’ll rephrase that. It’s nice to have friends outside of work.”

He can’t think of anything to say to that, so he watches as he slides the bacon and pancakes onto a plate and pokes at the eggs. Since that order is almost done, he turns to the shelf and grabs a small plate and puts a piece of lemon pie on it, as he’s setting it on the outgoing counter Ennoshita puts the breakfast platter down as well.

Akaashi grabs both plates and heads to the door, but pauses at Ennoshita’s voice. “Just think about it, ok?” He walks out the door without responding and heads straight to the booth, setting down the food before making the rounds to the 2 tables left occupied. Both of them are finished so when their bills are paid and their out the door it’s just him and Kuroo and Bokuto.

It’s surprisingly quiet, but then again they’re both still eating, he’d duck back into the kitchen, but Ennoshita’s being a bit pushy tonight. A few more minutes pass before the silence is broken.

“Hey, Akaashi?” Kuroo speaks up, plate clean and coffee cup empty.

“Do you need a refill?” He picks at the chips in his nail polish.

“No, actually, I was just wondering why you never sit with us.”

Akaashi freezes momentarily then forces himself to continue his menial task. “I don’t want to.”

“And why not?” Kuroo crosses his arms and sticks out his lower lip.

“Yeah, ‘Kaashi, why not?” It’s spoken around a mouthful of food and Akaashi decides to ignore it.

“It would be unprofessional.” It’s an obvious lie, but it buys him a little time.

A snort and a dramatic look around the diner is his only response.

“Oh! And how come you’re not addressing me? You’re not talking to me, only Kuroo.”

Akaashi opens his mouth but is cut off by Kuroo. “Well, that’s obvious, he refuses to call you by name, but he can’t call you by your special nickname at work, he’d get in trouble.” Bokuto gasps and nods, sticking more pancake in his mouth.

He looks down at the register and resolves to ignore both of them now.

“Oh, I think he’s pouting now, I shouldn’t have said that.” Akaashi takes a deep breath, he knows this is just what Kuroo does, but it’s still annoying.

He goes over to the coffee machine they have behind the register and grabs the carafe and his own mug before walking over to the booth. When he lifts the carafe Kuroo jumps a bit and Akaashi raises an eyebrow at him before refilling his mug.

“Did you think I was going to pour it in your lap?” Akaashi can’t hide the amusement in his voice.

This time it’s Kuroo who looks away, staring out the window. “Your face is pretty unreadable you know, it’s hard to tell what you’re thinking, let alone what you’re gonna do.”

“Is it Kuroo-san who’s pouting now? Scoot over so I can sit.” Kuroo grins up at him and slides himself all the way to the window, giving Akaashi entirely too much space, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

“Yay  ̴ Akaashi’s deigning to sit with us lowly cops.” Kuroo pours sugar into his coffee and stirs.

He rolls his eyes as he pours himself coffee and sets the carafe down. “Only because your incessant whining is annoying.”

“Can’t argue with results.” They both bring their mugs to their mouths and Akaashi simply hums in reply.

Bokuto, who’s looking entirely too excited at Akaashi’s presence, finally speaks up, muffled around a mouthful of bacon. “Hey, hey Akaashi.”

He blinks slowly and sets his mug down, knowing he’ll regret this. “Yes?”

“Why is Kuroo an exception? And does that mean every other cop has a rude nickname?”

Akaashi stares blankly at Bokuto, partially for effect, but mostly because he isn’t sure where to start. Kuroo solves half the problem for him. “Now, now Bo, rest assured, as far as I know, we’re the only cops Akaashi knows, so you’re probably the only one with a cute pet name.”

He rolls his eyes but forges on nonetheless “No other cops annoyed me enough to warrant a rude nickname. And I knew Kuroo before he was a cop, so there’s your answer.”

His grey brows pinch in and his golden eyes narrow “So you were friends before he was a cop?”

Kuroo laughs obnoxiously beside him. Akaashi speaks over it “Not necessarily, Kuroo was more of an acquaintance that was good at keeping me out of trouble.”

Bokuto’s mouth falls open a bit “That’s not good enough reason to be friends?”

Akaashi glances towards Kuroo, who’s grinning smugly beside him. “No, he had his reasons to help me. Ones that didn’t have a lot to do with me.”

Kuroo cuts Bokuto off, this time “Maybe one day when you’re older I’ll tell you.”

His mouth snaps shut “I’m older than you, Kuroo!” At Kuroo’s responding shrug he huffs a bit “Fine, but you’re not friends now? You act pretty friendly.”

“You only say that because you haven’t seen Akaashi around his real friends.” Kuroo pats Akaashi on the head briefly. “You’ve only ever seen Akaashi’s Tsun, trust me, he gets much more dere around people he really cares about.”

His smart reply is cut off before it even starts by the bell above the door dinging. He takes his cue to escape and slides out of the booth, bringing his mug with him. “Welcome to-” He cuts his greeting short when he sees that it’s Hinata in the doorway.

“Good morning Akaashi! How are you? Kageyama told me you were pretty busy tonight, how bad was it?” Hinata’s usual morning energy hits Akaashi full force and if he hadn’t known him for so long he’d take longer to process all the questions.

“I’m okay, having Suga and Kageyama here was very helpful, Ennoshita and I wouldn’t have survived without them. Is it six already?” Hinata skips past him, unzipping his jacket.

“Yep!” He pauses at the sight of Bokuto and Kuroo, then waves at them “Hey guys!” He turns back towards Akaashi “I’ll take the next customer then when they’re done you can be done, yeah?” 

“Alright. Thank you.” When Akaashi looks back at the booth, he sees that Bokuto’s finished all his food and Kuroo is signaling for the check.  

Akaashi rips the sheet out of his order pad and drops it in the middle of the table, picks up the carafe from the table, then watches as Bokuto fishes a bill out of his wallet. He grabs both and turns toward the register. “I’ll be back with the-”

 “Don’t bother!” It’s Bokuto’s voice but when he turns his head to look over his shoulder he sees both of them making shooing motions with their hands. He shakes his head and sticks the carafe back on the warmer, and opens the register after doing some mental math, digging out the appropriate bills and coins.

When he looks up he sees their both hanging around the doorway, he sighs with what feels like his entire being. “You have to take the check, and your change.” They have this conversation every time, and every time they act like they don’t have the faintest clue as to how billing at a restaurant works.

He’s slightly mollified when Bokuto bounds up to the register and holds out his hand, palm up, and Akaashi slides the change and check into it. The warmth of his hand startles Bokuto, he’s practically radiating heat.

“Akaashi, your hands are pretty cold! And you’re wearing a long sleeved shirt too.” Bokuto pinches his brow in thought before dumping the change into the tip jar and beaming up at him then turning and heading towards the door. “Have a good morning Akaashi!”

“Later Akaashi.” Kuroo throws a hand up in a lazy farewell, then follows his partner out the door.

Akaashi marks the tip on his copy of the receipt, then wanders into the back, untying his apron and sliding it off his waist.

He stops in front of Hinata, who’s sitting on the counter, Ennoshita leaning against it beside him “Well, I’m done. Have a nice morning, Hinata, Ennoshita.”

“You too Akaashi!” Hinata jumps down from the counter and Ennoshita gives him a wave.

On his way through the back room he dumps his apron in the dirty bin and then he’s out of the door, breathing in the crisp air and noting the dim light covering everything. He thinks about what he’ll do with his night off as he ascends the stairs to the apartment.

* * *

 

What he ends up doing is walking through alleys and backroads to the northern district, cans clanking in his bag as he walks along.

He has an idea for a particular club’s back wall, they’ll be closed tonight, so this is his best bet. He’s mulling over color options when his phone buzzes in his pocket, when he pulls it out to check and sees that it’s a spam e-mail he feels frustration bubble up.

The first and so far only commission he’d ever done had gone well, but he’s yet to get any more jobs. He catches himself cracking his knuckles as he slides his phone back into his pocket. He pauses as he reaches the mouth of the back alley, listening in for anyone, he’s stumbled into some odd situations before, and they never make his nights any smoother.

After a few minutes he’s certain there’s no dealing, fucking, or fighting going on and he rounds the corner, grateful that the silence hadn’t betrayed him and that he was alone in the alley. He examines the faded pieces already decorating the wall and clacks his tongue piercing against his teeth in an irregular rhythm. Finding a good sized space, he sets his bag down and kneels over it, he’s pleasantly surprised that the lights are so strong and he easily finds the colors he needs. He stands up again and lines up the paints, picking up the first one and uncapping it, then setting to work.

The base is finished when he hears a cacophony in the distance, he pauses with his arm hanging awkwardly in front of the wall. It gets closer and Akaashi starts to feel it thumping against his chest.

Just a car with overpowered bass, then, not too uncommon in this neighborhood, it’s stopped at the end of the block, if Akaashi had to guess. He sets the base color down and picks up the next in line, smirking down at the bright pink cap, for some reason he feels particularly fond of that color lately. The music from the car is so loud he doesn’t hear the soft “psh” of the paint leaving the can, he steps back a bit and frowns at the edges, deciding to dig his cardboard out.

He has trouble getting the zipper of his bag to open and he’s grateful that the music of the car covers the noise of the cans banging around. Just as he’s getting the bag open and his hands on the cardboard he feels a chill run down his spine.

Suddenly there’s a dip in the music and he hears a shuffle and jingling. Slowly he angles his head up, and is met with the sight of black shoes twenty feet or so in front of him. When he raises his head some more he sees dark blue uniform pants, a black belt and a matching blue button down with a badge pinned to the chest.

He doesn’t recognize this cop, but he doesn’t look like a rookie, there’s grey dotted in his five o`clock shadow, and his face looks worn. The guy is still rather fit though, and cuts an intimidating figure, he has a few inches on Akaashi, but he doesn’t look like he’d be a very fast sprinter, so if he can get out of the alley he stands a chance.

In one fluid motion he grabs his bag and stands up, turning as he does so, running towards the back entry he took.

He comes up short at the sight of another cop though, this one shorter than him, and softer too, but he more than makes up for it with the mean look on his face. His eyes are beady and Akaashi sees no room for second thought in them.

“Fuck.”

The music cuts back in, but now that Akaashi is aware of his presence, he can barely make out the clinking the other officer’s equipment as he slowly gets closer to the two of them. “Well, what would you know, a street artist. But he’s defacing public property, the bigshots really like when we bring those in.” His voice is gravelly and catches in odd places, setting Akaashi even further on edge.

“They’re after that type pretty bad lately, they don’t care what condition we bring them back in. Say, would you call that botched escape resisting arrest?” The squat one in front of him is wearing a merciless smirk.

He feels hands grab him around his biceps, vice-like even with the sleeves of his hoodie cushioning them. “I think I would.”

“Let me go.” He bites the words out, feeling anxiety claw its way up his throat, he tries swallowing it down but it refuses to go away. He never could keep a cool head. “What the fuck are you going to do? Just fucking cuff me and take me in, I refuse to be part of whatever sick game you’re playing.” His foot kicks back, trying for the guy’s instep, but he easily predicts the move, taking a half step back, just out of reach.

“Well now we can add attempted assault of an officer.” Somehow, the grip tightens and Akaashi finds himself taking a panicked inhale, feeling his control quickly slip away.

The one in front of him pulls his arm back “I think we should.” Akaashi braces himself.

He’s still left breathless when the fist connects to his stomach and his first instinct is to double over, but he’s forced to stay standing by the hands still tight around his arms. He struggles like a fish out of water for a few seconds, then he pulls in a shaky breath and coughs, causing pain to bloom across his torso.

“That punch was a little weak, don’t you think kid?” The older one’s speaks entirely too close to his ear, Akaashi can feel the warmth and moisture of his breath.

Another cough and shaky breath before he can speak, and even then it’s still ragged. “Fuck off.”

“I don’t think he’s learned yet.” He sounds gleeful, half laughing.

A hum right by his ear, “Hmm, not yet. You can give it another shot, then I’ll try.”

The other one outright laughs now and Akaashi curls his lip at the gross wheezing sound. He makes eye contact with the guy and doesn’t try to hide his disgust, he gets some enjoyment out of seeing the guys brow pinch in annoyance, and lips flatten as he pulls his arm back.

“Hey!”

Both officers and Akaashi freeze at the sound, the squat one the first to move, whipping his head towards the front of the alley. Akaashi cranes his head around and doesn’t quite know how he feels at the sight of the spiky-haired silhouette he sees.

“If it isn’t one of the rookie stars, I thought you hid behind shields in the riot police now?” The derisive tone doesn’t go over Akaashi’s head.

“He’s probably here to report us, so we can get a slap on the wrists and he can get a pat on the back. If the other cops tone was derisive, his is acidic. Akaashi watches Bokuto shrink, just a bit, before standing straight and approaching the three.

“Just the opposite actually, this little punk has been a pain for a few weeks now, I have to thank you for getting this kind of situation for me. I need to show him a thing or two about respect.” Bokuto stops a few feet from them.

He feels the grip on him slacken a bit. “Is that so? Well, he’s pretty stubborn, but I haven’t seen him before tonight, so I guess you can take him in.” The hands around his arms let go completely and then his legs are swept out from under him.

The feeling of the pavement underneath him has barely registered before he feels a heavy boot against his ribs, slowly increasing pressure until he knows there will be an ugly bruise along his right side by morning.

Just as he starts squirming from the discomfort the pressure is suddenly gone. “Good luck with that one.”

They don’t say anything else as they leave, Akaashi hears only the sound of their boots scraping the pavement. A few seconds of silence fill the air before Bokuto’s face is suddenly taking up all of Akaashi’s vision.

He tenses his entire body, not sure what to prepare for when the silence is cut by Bokuto’s squawking.

“Akaashi! Are you alright? Well, I mean obviously you aren’t, but do you think anything is broken? I should take you to a hospital! Aw, man, I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner! I only just found out they would be in the area tonight and I got a bit worried because I know you like hanging out in this neighborhood.” Akaashi feels a headache coming on and he cuts him off with a groan.

“Look, just get me to Suga’s, I’ll be okay.” He pulls himself to a sitting position, but pauses slightly at the feeling of Bokuto’s hand on his back.

“Are you sure? You could at least let me look you over, I do have some EMT training you know?” When he glances over he finds himself once more uncomfortable with the intensity of the golden gaze piercing him.

“That sounds very useful, but I’d like to just go home and sleep it off.” When he tries standing Bokuto keeps him down with a steady hold on his shoulders.

“You could have a concussion.” He looks genuinely concerned and Akaashi has truly run out of patience.

“And how would that be any of your business?” It’s bitten out and he feels his blood pressure rising.

Bokuto doesn’t let go of him, but sits back a bit, looking thoughtful. “Well, for one, it’s my job, as a cop I have to look out for people and keep them safe. That includes making sure people are okay.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes “Yeah, I can tell, definitely in the job description.”

He ignores him “Another thing is that, well, even if you don’t consider us friends, I don’t like seeing you hurt. So if I can do something to help, I will. Even if you’re being difficult.” Bokuto smiles at him then, and something about the earnestness in his expression makes something in Akaashi’s chest clench. He’s about 200 years from trying to deal with that though, so he settles for his favorite defense mechanism.

“Whatever, pig.” He stares at the ground he can see past Bokuto’s shoulder.

“Eh! Still so rude Akaashi. Well, you didn’t really hit your head and you seem to be talking alright, so I don’t think you have a concussion. Do your ribs hurt?” He adjusts his position so that he’s crouched over Akaashi a bit. “Sorry.” Then he moves his hands from Akaashi’s shoulders to stick his them underneath his hoodie and shirt.

“Wow, really living up to the name pig.” He wonders if he can feel how fast his heart is beating.

Bokuto’s cheeks might be pink though it’s hard for Akaashi to tell in the semi-dark, then he feels his fingers fan around his right side. “Can you take a deep breath, like the deepest breath possible?”

Akaashi complies “No pain. You can stop feeling me up now.”

The hands are yanked out quickly and he stares at the ground. “I’m sorry, I really should’ve asked first, but I didn’t figure you’d mind, and I swear it was just to make sure you didn’t have a cracked rib. Which you don’t- good news.” He slows his rambling a bit and looks Akaashi in the eyes. “I’m not like that really, I don’t- uh feel people up without their permission, I swear.”

“I believe you, you don’t have to defend yourself to me. Guilty conscience much?” Akaashi raises an eyebrow as he meets his stare levelly.

“Uh, maybe.” He looks away again and starts rubbing the back of his neck.

“Whatever, can I go now?”

Bokuto wraps an arm around him and pulls him up with him. “I guess so, but you should let me give you a ride back.”

He grabs Bokuto’s wrist and moves his arm off. “I’m good walking thanks.”

“But those guys will still be patrolling this area, so it’s better if you let me give you a ride.” He stands in front of him, blocking his path.

Akaashi sighs. “Fine. Showing up in a cop car, Suga will be thrilled.”

Bokuto hooks an arm around his shoulders and steers him out of the alley and down the street. “Well, I’m actually off duty, so it’s not the patrol car, also who is Suga? The way Kuroo talks you’d think he’s your mom.”

He snorts, and regrets it when pain reverberates through his gut. “He’s everyone’s mom. It’s his personality.”

They stop in front of some old blue 4-door and Bokuto leaves Akaashi on the passenger side to unlock it. “Huh.”

Once the door is unlocked Akaashi slides into the passenger seat and lets the silence take over, keeping his eyes straight ahead as Bokuto starts the car.

“Buc- Akaashi you’re bleeding!” The silence is suddenly filled with Bokuto’s exclamation, then the cab of the car is suddenly bright as Bokuto turns on the overhead light.

Akaashi pulls the visor in front of him down, examining his face in the mirror and seeing blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. “Huh.” He wipes it with his thumb, then licks his lips and feels where he must have bit his lip and cheek when he fell.

“Are you okay? Do we need to go to the hospital after all?” Akaashi’s headache grows a bit.

He sighs. “I just bit myself when I fell, I’m fine.”

“Really? That seems like a lot of blood for just a bite.” His voice is tinged with disbelief.

Akaashi rolls his eyes and turns towards Bokuto and opens his mouth, pointing in the vague direction of the cut with his right hand, then closing his mouth again. “See? Please just take me home already.”

“Y…Yeah, looks fine, I’ll take you home then.” For some reason Bokuto’s face was rather pink and he seemed distracted, but he turned off the overhead light and put the car into drive.

They’re halfway to the diner, riding in silence when Bokuto speaks up again. “Hey Akaashi?”

“Yes pig?”

“Rude. Do you have a tongue piercing?”

Akaashi pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’ve known me over a month how have you just noticed? I also have about 10 other piercings, do you need me to confirm those too?”

Bokuto stammers a bit “N-No, just wanted to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.”

“Well you’re not.” The car pulls into the parking lot and Akaashi practically leaps out of the car. “Thanks for the lift, pig!”

“That’s still rude, but good night Akaashi! Feel better!” Bokuto barely gets it out before Akaashi slams the car door shut.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time-Skips, More Action, More Drama and Maybe More Bokuaka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow am I sorry this took so long. I literally have two tests every Friday, but next week is spring break, so keep your fingers crossed (I know I am)  
> As always my friend Eve is making the most gorgeous art for this au [here](http://abominableve.tumblr.com/tagged/Cop-Au)  
> And you can find my tumblr [here](http://tuscedomask.tumblr.com) (if you have any questions about the au)

 

The months slowly fade into warmth and then heat as Akaashi falls into a pattern. Work, sleep, and find a new project, all while avoiding cops.

The last one is the hardest, especially when one Bokuto Koutarou is taken into consideration. Despite Akaashi’s attitude towards him, and most other cops, he remains intent on being friends. For whatever reason.

Admittedly, he’s gotten Akaashi out of trouble more than a handful of times now, and for that he’s grateful, but frustrated. Mostly frustrated.

* * *

 

“Okay, this is gonna sting a bit.” His gaze is fixed dead-ahead, staring at the fading wallpaper behind Bokuto. A burning sensation suddenly races up his bicep and he wills himself not to flinch, it slowly fades away as he feels a bandage cover the cut on his arm. “Maybe next time you should just walk around the fence. Instead of, you know, trying to jump it.”

“Maybe you should tell your friends to stop trying to beat me up.” The sounds of Bokuto putting away the first aid supplies fills the air for a few seconds before he gets a reply.

“We’re not friends, and if they’d bother listening to me I would, but I’m not in their precinct. To be honest even if I were they wouldn’t listen, but you probably know that.” Akaashi picks up his arm and avoids Bokuto’s gaze in favor of examining the bandage on his arm, it’s big and bulky, covering up a decent amount of his tattoos.

He traces the edges of it. “Do you have a smaller bandage?”

Bokuto scoffs as he turns and walks out of the kitchen with the first aid kit. “Yes, but you’re keeping that one, it’s a long cut. Sorry to cramp your style.”

Akaashi sighs as he stands, he can just get a smaller one from the medicine cabinet at home. “Whatever, Pig.”

A put-out sigh fills the tiny space as Bokuto reappears in the kitchen. “We were doing so well, you hadn’t called me that since I let you into my apartment.”

He examines the owl salt shaker on the counter. “More like dragged me up here.”

“You were bleeding, I didn’t have my first aid kit on me.” Akaashi turns his head and sees Bokuto leaning against the kitchen doorway, still in uniform. He decides the counter is more interesting.

“How that train of thought led you to taking me back to your place is beyond me.” He’s very pointedly staying away from suggesting that _his_ actions suggest anything. Kuroo teases them enough, but Akaashi would rather not think too hard on why exactly Bokuto is so keen on helping him. He resists the urge to pick up the salt shaker and instead turns around and stands still against the counter.   

“Well, I can’t leave someone bleeding on the sidewalk. Do you want a soda?”  He watches as Bokuto walks up to the fridge and starts rummaging around.

A few steps forward and he’s standing in front of the door. “I’m going home now.” He doesn’t wait for a reply before opening the door and striding out.

* * *

 

Akaashi focuses on keeping completely still, leaned against the retaining wall, watching the shadows from the sidewalk above pace back and forth. He can hear their voices, but can’t make out any words over the sound of the water in front of him, echoing back and forth under the bridge.

He hears a shout, then both shadows pause and turn, moving slightly as they talk, before they hesitantly start walking away from the bridge, and then they disappear from sight. Akaashi decides to give it ten minutes before he leaves, he starts silently counting the seconds, letting his eyes droop a bit.

“Hey Akaashi!”

His heart nearly leaps out of his throat, but luckily he keeps his footing, he slowly turns his head to the left and sees Bokuto standing about 5 feet from him, facing him, heedless of how narrow the walkway is. He can’t make out a lot of facial features but in the dark his eyes are striking, like some nocturnal predator.

“Those other guys had to report back to their station, so you don’t have to hide down here.” Akaashi decides to ignore him and scrabble up the wall on the side of the bridge that he isn’t on. Passing him would be a futile effort on this thin sidewalk, one of them would end up in the water. “You’re welcome!”

He rolls his eyes as he grabs onto handholds he knows from memory, there’s a staircase about 20 feet down, but this way is faster, he learned that in his first year living here.

A hand appears in front of his face when he’s almost to the top and he raises a brow as he follows it from the arm up to its owners face. His eyebrow drops back down as he sees the messy hair and he begrudgingly takes the offered help.

“Aw, Akaashi doesn’t this remind you of old times?” He effortlessly helps Akaashi up the rest of the way.  

From the other side of the bridge Bokuto’s spiky hair appears, followed shortly by the rest of him. “I still haven’t heard all about that, by the way!” Akaashi rolls his eyes.

“I told you, Bo. One day when you’re older, I’ll recount the tales of our youth. Until then I have to remain mysterious and cool. So does Akaashi.” Kuroo gives him a hearty clap on the back.

“I’ll be going now.” He turns on his heel and makes it about 2 steps before they’ve both caught up with him.

“To the diner? Our patrol’s that way, we could escort you!” Bokuto chirps from his left.

Akaashi bristles “Actually I’m headed the opposite way. And I don’t need to be babysat, Pig.” He doesn’t mean for his voice to sound so venomous, but if it works.  

“Now, now Akaashi. You know that’s not what we meant. We’re just trying to help.” Kuroo’s voice is placating, almost pleading.

He rolls his eyes. “Well I don’t need help. Especially not yours.”

Kuroo shrugs and falls back “Alright, your life, your choices.” Akaashi keeps walking and out of the corner of his eyes sees Bokuto looking torn, glancing back and forth between them. “Bokuto, leave him be. He’s a big boy.”

Bokuto looks back at him once more, and he looks like he wants to say something, but doesn’t, simply pats him on the arm and falls back. Akaashi keeps walking and rounds the corner on the next block, trudging towards the meeting place.

He fights to keep his pace even, to not break into a sprint, anytime someone looks at him that way, whether it’s Oikawa or Sugawara, his gut twists and he wants to run. Far and fast, never looking back.

Somehow the look being from a cop doesn’t help, no matter how earnest his concern seems.

* * *

 

This has to be purposeful, there’s no other explanation.

For the third time in a week, Akaashi finds himself hiding from the pair of idiots that seem to have made him their newest mission. He has no clue what they want, if they’re just upset he’s gotten away so much, if they were looking for him the first time, hell he’s not even sure they want to arrest him. So far it seems like they just want to make him their personal punching bag.

He’s managed to avoid that situation since the first incident.

They’re talking in hushed whispers below his perch on a rooftop and he’s straining his ears to try and make out whatever it is they’re talking about.

Probably him. Honestly this entire situation is way past pissing him off. He’s in an abandoned neighborhood, all the old buildings are covered in graffiti and street art. No one’s bothered trying to paint over this place, let alone bust the people responsible, in all the years Akaashi’s known it.

This was a test and he doesn’t know what to do with the score.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and hears footsteps shuffling away as their voices get gradually quieter. After the silence has taken over for a few minutes he pulls out his phone and shoots off a quick message, if he can’t so much as sneeze without gaining attention he sure as hell can’t be of any actual use right now. Especially not with such big projects coming up.

If he wants to get back to his regular schedule- that is, painting without being beaten and or arrested- he needs to shake these guys. Which requires info, about what they want and who exactly they are, namely.

* * *

 

 “This looks kinda serious Akaashi, doesn’t it hurt?” Bokuto’s lips purse as he leans in towards his knee and pats an alcohol swab over the cut.

His breath hisses out and his fingers briefly claw into the cheap kitchen chair he’s sitting on “Of course it hurts.”

The sting gradually fades and he watches as a beige bandage covers up the gash up his calf. “Then why don’t you be more careful?”

He feels his eye twitch “Because, Pig, a cut hurts a lot less than what those two dished out last time.”

“Akaashi you know what I mean.” Bokuto stands and towers over Akaashi, who’s still sitting down. Crossing his arms, he gives what Akaashi thinks is supposed to be a reprimanding look.

For some reason his mind is stuck on how his biceps flexed when he moved his arms. “It’s really none of your business.” His throat feels dry.

“Um, this is like the fifth time I’ve patched you up, so I think my opinion is worth something here.” He sighs and packs up his first aid kit, leaning past Akaashi to grab the plastic container from where it sits behind him.

He has to swallow a bit before retorting “You pour alcohol on my cuts and slap a bandage over it, that’s hardly patching me up. And five times seems like an exaggeration.” Bokuto snaps the case shut and straightens, then begins to walk back towards- whatever is back beyond the kitchen, Akaashi’s not sure, he’s never been past the kitchen.

He pauses in the doorway, turns back towards him and makes steady eye contact as he holds up his free hand in a loose fist “Okay first time around the fifteenth,” he lifts his index finger, “then two days in a row because you weren’t disinfecting that time you almost fell in the river-”

“Did not, and I did not need your help that time, and for the record it was _not_ getting infected.” His lips start pursing on their own.

“Whatever you say,” two more fingers go up “Then about two weeks ago with the bottle. And now.” He holds up his last finger and thumb.

Akaashi rolls his eyes “You seriously kept count?” He pushes himself up and out of the chair. “Kinda lame, Pig.”

“So you’ll accept my bandages but not my advice?” Bokuto slouches a bit, seeming to deflate a bit. Akaashi almost feels bad, chest trying to give an ache before he squashes it down.

He shrugs “Believe it or not, your lectures are nothing compared to my roommates.”

“I’m just the lesser of two evils? Really, you still don’t even consider us friends? I’ve been nothing but nice, y’know.” His words hold no bite, only exasperation, and his entire body sags a bit, as he leans back against the doorway and lolls his head back to stare at the ceiling.

Something about seeing him like that feels, off, somehow, as if his entire demeanor just changed. He almost feels like he should apologize, or make some sort of conciliatory statement, but he’s a grown man- a cop at that, surely he can handle himself. “Well, good night, Pig.”

“Yeah, night.” His tone holds none of his usual energy, or even exasperation at the nickname, it fills him with an odd sort of guilt. Like kicking a puppy, a sick puppy, who’s also orphaned. Akaashi shakes his head. The cop who’s always in his business is not his responsibility.

* * *

 

“Hey, Akaashi, there’s a letter for you!”

Akaashi picks his eyes up from his sketchbook to look at where Suga is standing in the kitchen. “Who’s it from?” Dread fills his stomach at the sight of the envelope in his hand, just enough for him to acknowledge it, but not as bad as it was the first few times.

Suga shrugs and walks it over to him “No name, sender’s address is some P.O. Box, do you recognize it?” The cream colored envelope is held in front of his face and he reads over the address and the dread forms into a perfect pit, weighing him closer to the earth.

“Yeah, I recognize the address, it’s a potential client. I’ll take it.” The lie rolls off his tongue easily, easier than picking up the envelope at least.

“Weird that there’s no name, is that like a privacy thing?” Suga’s face scrunches up in confusion.

Akaashi moves his sketchbook out of his lap and stands and shrugs. “I guess so, I don’t ask a lot of questions to be perfectly honest.” Suga heads back into the kitchen and he heads up to his ladder and climbs up to his loft, taking a breath to steady himself before sitting on the edge of his bed.

On the exhale he rips open the envelope.

Reading it is hell, like it is every time. Every two or three months. He doesn’t have to read them, in fact he doesn’t read most of them. The only reason he’s reading this one is for clues, any time something big happens, there’s something to be said.

Sure enough, in the last paragraph, a few sentences, casually thrown in at the last second.

He takes another deep breath and folds the letter back up and then into its envelope before sticking it in the drawer with the others. The taste of bile fills the back of his throat and tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he won’t give, he won’t budge. Every time he thinks he’s fine, that he’s perfectly capable, this happens. He lays back on the bed and curls up, trying to calm his racing thoughts, but a bitter one floats to the surface and lingers.

Well, at least he doesn’t have to worry about those cops anymore. 

* * *

 

It’s two weeks later that he finds himself at a rally that’s gotten a bit tense, the riot police pulling the edges in on the crowd, bringing in the barriers towards the front, forcing people into a smaller space and subsequently causing already high strung nerves to tighten up further.

Akaashi sighs and wipes sweat off his forehead, feeling more slowly drip down his back, despite the thin tank top he’d worn. Well, the dark skinny jeans and heavy boots probably didn’t help, or the fact that the tank top was black. Although the major problem was probably the 30 or so people he was currently touching, all at once. Gross.

It really hadn’t started like this, at first it had just been him and a few people he recognized from the art community, like Hinata’s little blonde friend and _her_ pretty friend, hanging around the statues in the park. They were holding small sit-ins every Sunday because that was the day the mayor came out to the museum across the street and it made for a good opportunity to remind him that the new censorship laws were _bullshit_. The turnout today had been record, which was _great_ really, but the fact that he was inhaling at least five different body odors was less than ideal and he normally didn’t mind crowded spaces in this kind of situation but he was beginning to understand why the other two had left early.

He pulls in a breath of the muggy air and steels himself before pushing back towards the edge of the crowd, he’s curious as to why the cops suddenly think they need a smaller leash, and moving is better than sitting still when he gets this itch under his skin.

When he finally makes it he’s a bit surprised to see some of the artists from the other side of town at the front, a few bearing signs and all of them bearing a very vocal attitude. He’s not surprised to see that, rather that they showed up at all, normally they don’t bother coming to rallies, they must be cracking down all over the city if they’re here in such force. He looks around once more before pushing forward again to try and talk to one of the ones on the edges, he barely recognizes him as one of the newer member, having only recently moved to the city.

“Kyoutani?” The bleach blonde whips his head towards him, gives him an indecipherable look- he always looks like he’s frowning, but nods. “What brings you guys out?”

His naturally sour face deepens into a full blown frown, then he leans in a bit closer. “They painted over the industrial park.”

Akaashi sucks in a breath in a hiss. The industrial park had been untouched for years, filled with abandoned train cars, broken concrete pillars, and other unusable junk. It was well known that nobody bothered trying to clean the place up, some of the older art was tagged as being twenty years old. “The council really is trying to get rid of all graffiti.” Kyoutani nods mutely beside him and goes back to chanting with the rest of the crowd. He feels a little shell-shocked as he continues to process that information. Doing that, they hadn’t just destroyed art, they were destroying culture.

He listens for a few beats and then joins the chant.

It’s really only been a few minutes before he feels his phone buzzing in his back pocket. Once he retrieves it, he sees that Suga is calling him, normally he just lets calls ring when he’s at a rally, but if it’s Suga it could be important.

Ignoring calls from your landlord/employer/friend who mothers is never a good idea, in Akaashi’s experience.

With that in mind, he makes to break from the crowd, getting all the way to the edge before he’s face to face with one of the riot cops. Well, a cop. One of the pair that was chasing him around up until a couple weeks ago, to be precise. The riot force must have foreseen the increased crowd size, they’re not idiots, they know what painting over the industrial park would do, and pulled in backup.

Akaashi clears his throat and speaks loudly and clearly to be heard over the crowd. “Excuse me, I’m leaving.” The cop glares down his nose at him.

“No can do, crowds too keyed up.” Akaashi knows he isn’t imagining the small smirk the guys wearing, he’s all too pleased to keep him hear.

“Come on, just let me slip under the barrier. I’m probably not coming back.” The cop simply raises an eyebrow before a commotion breaks out somewhere behind Akaashi and they both turn their heads to see what’s going on.

There are too many people to clearly see, but Akaashi’s seen it enough to know what that movement means. People are clearing a space away and he can barely make out the tops of heads swiftly moving back and forth. A fight’s broken out.

Maybe this is his chance to get out, he turns back towards the cop, who’s already looking back down at him. “Well that’s bad news for you.”

He feels anger boil up his stomach, tinged with frustration and exasperation. Whatever kind of agenda this guy had against him, it was serious, and he was in the wrong place right now. Objectively, he realizes this, but here, in the moment, he feels only rage. “Of fucking course. My mistake, I thought you might be more interested in doing your goddamn job, although I’m still not sure what that entails when you spent so long _stalking_ me instead of following any actual patrol routes.”

A humorless grin splits his weathered face “You’ve really got a mouth, kid.” He pulls out his baton and lets it slap heavily against the hand not holding it.

“So I’ve been told.” He keeps an eye on his shoulders, watching for any shift, any warning.

Their tense standoff goes on for a few more seconds before something snaps and the baton is coming straight for him. He manages to avoid the brunt of it, but in this crowd he can’t dodge it completely, his back smarting where he’d ended up taking the hit when he turned.

The cop lifts the baton and strikes from the other side, but Akaashi ducks under it and elbows him in the stomach. He hears his breath whoosh out of him and he ducks out before he can get caught, watching the guy grasp at empty air.

He stays bowled over a bit, but is still looking down at Akaashi “Now you really did it.” He brandishes his baton and swiftly pulls it straight overhead before bringing it down. Akaashi doesn’t move quickly enough and the blow glances off his temple down to his shoulder, there’s a moment of distant pain before his adrenaline kicks into overdrive. He ducks down once more, balancing on both hands and one leg, sweeping the other around to take the guy’s feet out from under him.

It works for one leg, but not the other and he curses under his breath as he’s rewarded a swift kick to the ribs for his effort.

He registers another kick right as he’s getting his bearings again, this one lands on his hip and he hisses out at the feeling of boot hitting bone. One more kick, the ribs again. Akaashi curls into the fetal position before the next kick, so he only takes it to the back this time, he hears a commotion and watches feet scuffle around him, then he hears the sound of a fist meeting skin. There are no more kicks, only the sounds of hits landing. He loses track of how many blows are exchanged before he hears a whistle, and then he’s being hauled up by someone, he’s not sure who.

Oh, it’s Iwaizumi. The one whose helmet he was supposed to paint those months ago. “I’m sorry, we have to bring you in with everyone else involved.”

Akaashi wonders how many hits he took as he distantly registers being pushed into a police car.

When they arrive at the station he’s gotten his bearings a bit better, but he’s still out of it, sitting on a bench in holding with everyone else is when he finally comes back to himself.

His entire left side smarts as he breathes in, and the right side of his face feels tender. He looks up at a clock and is shocked at the time, he instinctively reaches for his phone and when the screen lights up he sees multiple missed calls. Guilt churns his stomach and he pockets his phone, deciding to deal with it when he’s in a better head space. Leaning back against the wall, he takes a breath to steady himself, he can’t remember any clear details from sometime around the fight to being here in holding, which is mildly terrifying. He’s gotten into fights with cops before, although he’d tried to tone it down when he got a real job and Oikawa started giving him _looks_ when he showed up bruised and battered, and the few times Suga’s seen his injuries hasn’t gone smoothly either.

He lets his mind wander and the hours slowly tick by, slowly people are taken out for questioning. An officer with Konoha on his name tag comes by and calls his name.

When he gets up every part of him protests, from his ankles to his head, which throbs with every breath. The officer gives him a once over and gestures for him to go to the door, once he’s there the door is opened. Akaashi steps out.

“Alright, follow me, we’re just gonna ask you a few questions, then you’re free to go.” He sets off at a leisurely pace without checking to see if Akaashi’s following, which he does, a few feet behind him.

They go down a narrow corridor that widens into a wider office space, full of desks where multiple reports are being made. Konoha leads them to an empty, cluttered desk and he sits heavily behind the computer, gesturing to the empty seat in front of him.

Akaashi takes a seat and sighs. “Alright, I can see you’re pretty beat up, so I’ll make this quick. Just tell me what you remember about the altercations and you can go, you’ve got people outside, I think.”

His gut twists at that knowledge, it’s probably Oikawa or Suga, maybe both, and he doesn’t want to see the looks on their faces right now. Disappointment? Pity? Worry?

All of the above probably.

The officer clears his throat “You can start with when the first fight broke out.”

Right, he’ll have time to deal with his roommates after this. He swallows and gathers his thoughts, his voice coming out like it was run over jagged steel. “I was trying to leave when the fight broke out, then-” he thinks over what to say next, he doesn’t know the officers name, and if Bokuto’s to be believed they can’t do anything anyways. The typing that started when he began speaking slows to a stop.

Then again, he doesn’t plan on pressing charges, he knows he’ll lose in any case. “A cop got aggressive with me and things escalated, I was… incapacitated and don’t know what happened after. The last thing I know for sure is that I was brought here.”

Konoha frowns, his pale eyebrows drawing close. “Can you say who started anything?”

Akaashi swallows the sudden lump that appears in his throat. “It’s hard to say, there were a lot of people, tension was high.”

His fingers move across the keyboard briefly before pausing again. “You’re sure? That’s your answer?”

“Yes.” _Coward._

The typing picks up again and then stops. Konoha stands and Akaashi does the same, “Alright, we’re done here.” He extends a hand out, Akaashi warily takes it and accepts the handshake. “I’m really sorry this happened tonight, honestly.” Akaashi simply nods. “You can leave out of those double doors there. Hope you’re night gets better.”

He walks towards the doors and takes a breath before pushing them open and stepping out, into a waiting room. A glance around doesn’t reveal any familiar heads of gray or brunette hair and Akaashi is filled with confusion. Who else would be waiting for him? That officer must have been mistaken.

Akaashi walks a few steps before he’s stopped by a familiar voice.

“Keiji! There you are, I was so worried when I heard the news I called the station and they confirmed you were here.” He feels ice slough up his blood vessels and he loses feeling in his toes and fingers, freezing completely in place. A dark-haired woman appears in front of him and continues rattling on, grabbing his wrist. “Come on, I pulled a few strings and-” Her breath catches on a gasp as her eyes lock onto Akaashi’s face and she brings up a hand to touch the nasty bruise he can feel forming. “That looks awful, we should get you some ice, my hotel is only ten minutes and the car’s waiting so-”

Akaashi is pulled out of his daze by a tugging on his wrist and he looks down at where perfectly manicured fingers ensnare it. He wrenches it out of her grasp.

“Don’t touch me.” He makes steady eye contact, trying to hide all weakness, all vulnerability from this woman.

“Excuse me? That’s no way to speak to me.” Her mouth thins into a line and he instinctively shies at the instant change in tone, but keeps his footing, refusing to back down.

He fights to keep his voice steady, taking deep breaths, trying to stay calm “I can speak to you however I please.”

“Akaashi Keiji, I don’t care how old you are, I am still your mother.”

   


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More things happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a beta now, she's super great ;w; - [Her tumblr](http://iamthewindything.tumblr.com) (she's really rad)  
> Eve still has super pretty art for this au- [x](http://abominableve.tumblr.com/tagged/cop-au) (maybe check out their other stuff too, it's pretty great)  
> You can still come scream at me about this au anytime- [x](http://tuscedomask.tumblr.com)

Akaashi Keiji felt as if the solid ground underneath him has disappeared, as if the blood that runs through his body has turned to an icy slush, as if everything he’s grown comfortable with has been tipped upside down and his reality is falling apart around him.

It’s been years since he’s seen his mother, the last time being a few days after he’d graduated high school. He’d taken a few days to gather his graduation money and then high-tailed it out of that house and her life.

Or so he thought for the first few months, he got caught up in the city lifestyle, in all the culture and all of the new things to experience. Especially once he moved in with Oikawa, who kept him busy most days. Then, around the three month mark of his newfound freedom, he’d received a letter.

He knew it was off the second he saw it. He hadn’t given anyone his address, at least not anyone that would bother sending a letter. Still he was hopeful.

Then he’d opened it, and had instantly recognized his mother’s neat script.

A handwritten letter.

The contents were surprisingly tame; she complained left and right about him “moving out on such short notice” and that she wished he’d waited so she could have helped him find a decent place. Apparently his current abode was distasteful to her.

He’d only made it through the first paragraph before he had to run to the bathroom to puke.

The letters had kept up since then, once every few months, full of snide remarks and thinly-veiled insults, and always, _always_ some reminder that she kept tabs on him. It ranged from a comment on how unkempt Suga’s diner looked all the way to rebuking him for his last tattoo.

Sometimes he read them right away; sometimes he didn’t even bother opening the envelope for a few weeks. Either way her message had remained clear.

Akaashi could try to leave, to cut her out, but she wasn’t going to let him go anytime soon.

He’d known that, he’d _known_ and _still_ the rug had been pulled out from under him when she showed up.

Well he wasn’t exactly known for being patient with his family. Or even remotely calm for that matter.

He levels a glare down at her, annoyed at all the similarities he knows he’ll find in a mirror if he looks, from the slope of her nose to the bright green of her eyes. “You need to go, I don’t know why you’re here but-”

“I’m here because I’m worried! I know you frequent the rallies here and when I heard they’d gotten violent I had to make sure you were safe.” Her mouth is still pinched, and pulls down at the corners now, her eyebrows drawing low in the same instant. “Really Keiji, I do care about you.”

Akaashi closes his eyes and takes a shuddering breath in. Getting angry now would accomplish nothing. He knows that from experience: all the shouting, all the baring of his emotions he’d tried, with no success. She honestly doesn’t care. It won’t make a difference.

With somewhat unpracticed focus, he stomps his boiling rage into mild irritation. It stays itching at the base of his skull, but he can’t feel his heart pounding in his ears now, so that’s an improvement. “I’m sure you do, but I don’t particularly need you here right now.” He opens his eyes and feels his face slide into the default neutral expression.

She flicks her hair over her shoulders as her mouth smooths out and arches a single elegant brow at him. “Not everything is about you Keiji; I did book a reservation at a nearby restaurant. It would be rude to cancel.”

His eyelid twitches.

“Mother I don’t see why you can’t go by yourself.” He’s suddenly aware of the eyes of the entire room on them. Their gazes make his skin feel hot and tight.

She taps a single acrylic nail against the face of her watch. “I haven’t seen you in years and you’re just going to blow me off? Just like that?” Something in his chest he’d long thought dead twitches when he sees genuine hurt cross her eyes.

His mouth and throat dry up; he tries to swallow and tastes sand.

This isn’t _fair_ _._ People are watching, she’s making a scene, playing all her cards. Arguing with his mother in public, he feels all of twelve again.

But he’s not, he’s an adult who can make this decision himself. Who can make the choice to try or to give up, at least for today.

Maybe it’s because he’s still young and somewhat naïve, but he wants to think people can change. He can leave anytime he wants, he’s not trapped by her, he can decide how much to give.

A deep breath in. “Fine.”

Her small smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and Akaashi tries not to reserve judgement, but it feels smug. “Perfect. Come along, we can be on time if we hurry.”

He simply nods and follows her clacking heels outside of the station, where her town car is parked. She slides into the backseat first and Akaashi follows. He buckles up mutely and doesn’t recognize the address she gives to the driver. Not that he thought he would, he hasn’t been in a restaurant of his mother’s –or father’s- taste in years. He glances over at her, trying to be discreet as he examines her outfit: a business jacket and skirt in muted grey, short black heels. Her hair cut and color remain the same, and she still pulls it back with the elegant pins studded with jewels at the end, a family heirloom if he remembers right. If he had any interest in children they’d go to his first daughter. His eyes flick to her makeup and she still goes as bold as ever, dark lips and eyeshadow accentuating her pale skin.

It annoys him because he knows he’d look just as good in those colors, because looking at her face is just the same as looking in a mirror. Any reminder that they really are related is always annoying.

She clears her throat. “I wish we had time to stop so you could change into something suitable.” Emerald eyes dissect his ensemble from shoes to shirt and settle at his ears “You could at least take out the ridiculous jewelry before we get there.”

Akaashi doesn’t even think before replying, “No, there’s nothing wrong with them.”

A snort before she’s rolling her eyes back to face the front. “Keiji I understand that you’re an adult, but I know you remember that in these kinds of _settings_ certain things are just not accepted.”

“You’re right” He keeps his on gaze dead ahead, watching the traffic ahead of them. “I’m an adult, and my earrings stay. All of my jewelry stays. I’m not going to take it out for dinner.”

“ _Keiji_.” Her tone sets something off in him.

“Driver I just remembered a previous engagement, can you let me out?” He doesn’t recognize his mother’s new driver, but that doesn’t surprise him either; she was having a hard time keeping employees before he left. There’s no telling how intolerable she got after he was gone.  

He meets his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Are you sure?”

“KEIJI!” His mother’s voice has taken on a truly shrill tone by now. 

“Yes.” He turns and meets her eyes, she looks truly furious. “I tried, really, but I honestly can’t stand the thought of sharing the rest of this car ride with you, let alone an entire meal.” He feels the car stop moving and reaches behind himself, unlocking the door.

The look on her face makes him almost wish he hadn’t stolen away in the night when he’d left all those years ago. He opens the door and slides out, going to shut the door and then pausing before bending at the waist and meeting her eyes one last time. “Send all the letters you want, I don’t care. I’m done, just… _Done_. Keep protecting me if you want, it’s clearly not making much of a difference in the long run. But if it keeps you happy without directly interfering with my life and happiness then so be it.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply before slamming the door and turning on his heel, paying no heed to where he’s going, just knowing he’s walking _away_ is enough.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind though, he hears an echoing voice. It calls him a coward.

* * *

 

When Akaashi walks through the door he finds Suga and Oikawa both crouched over the kitchen island, poring over what looks to be recipes. Both their heads snap up when he shuts the door.

“Kei-chan, you’re in one piece.” Despite the joke, Akaashi can tell Oikawa was concerned, in the way his brow smooths out just a bit at the sight of him.

“Akaashi, we heard about what happened, did you end up involved?” Suga, on the other hand, is noticeably concerned, eyebrows pulled down as he looks over every inch of him. Not to mention the fact that there’s an entire tray of cupcakes on the counter. Guilt instantly twists a knife in him, but he squashes it down, it doesn’t make sense to feel guilty for this; he couldn’t have prevented it.

Suga’s standing in front of him now, and he feels his hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“A few hits landed on me, I had to help file an incident report. Sorry I never called you back.” He can’t quite meet Suga’s eyes, staring instead at the bowl of frosting on the counter. It’s bright blue and makes him think of a particular piece in the industrial park.

The arm on his shoulder squeezes him once, lightly.  “That’s really not important, are you _okay_?”

He takes a quick count: no broken bones, but his entire left half is basically a giant bruise. His mind also supplies him with his brief encounter with his mother. “Just a few bruises, I’ll be fine in a week.” He finally manages to tear his eyes away from the garish blue and look down at Suga, who flashes him a relieved grin before releasing his shoulder.

“Well thank goodness. We were pretty worried, you know.” Suga turns back to the counter and Akaashi finds himself bending the fingers on his left hand with his right. “Now, how much yellow Oikawa?”

Oikawa picks up a sheet of paper out of the mess, “Either 2 or 12. That’s either a 1 or a bit of batter, hard to tell.”

 Suga pauses with the dropper of food dye uncapped, huffing out a breath. “Well that’s not very helpful.”

Akaashi smiles in spite of his night and drops himself at one of the stools at the island. “What flavor are those?” He points a painted nail towards the cupcakes.

Oikawa answers for him while Suga’s focused on adding drops of dye and mixing the frosting. “Vanilla. His stress-baking is on auto-pilot, I think.”

He hums in agreement before Suga cuts in. “Yes, yes, I worry too much, blah blah blah. This frosting is new though, I changed the ratio of cream and sugar, and I decided to go with green dye. We all need more green in our diets!”

“Was that a joke, Suga? If so it was kind of awful.” Oikawa freezes beside him before laughing at Akaashi’s comment.  

Suga turns back towards Akaashi with his hands on his hips and Akaashi simply raises a brow. “Akaashi, here I am worried about you to the point of baking and the first thing you’ve really done since getting home is insult me.”

His face remains neutral under Suga’s admonishing glare. “I’m sorry for worrying you, but that _was_ a bad joke.”  

“After all I do for you two!” He turns back to his icing, shaking his head as he whips it.

Oikawa gasps and sits up straight “ _I_ didn’t insult you!”

Suga clucks his tongue. “But you laughed.”

“Do I still get cupcakes?” Oikawa tilts his head a bit, staring at the back of Suga’s silvery head.

He turns his head just enough to side eye the two of them. “You can both have cupcakes.”

Oikawa throws his hands up. “Yayyy!”

“Once they’re cooled.”

“Ugh, I thought they were already cooled.”

“Not enough.”

All at once, Akaashi feels his day catch up to him, and covers his mouth as a yawn overtakes him, then stretches his arms up. “I’ll have to get a raincheck, I think.”

“Aww, Kei-chan, you just got here~” Oikawa threw an arm around him in a lazy, one-sided hug. “One cupcake?”

Suga’s stopped whipping the icing in favor of pouring it into a bag. “They are almost done…”

Akaashi thinks longingly of his bed, then sighs. “Alright.”

Oikawa pats him on the back before releasing him.

The minutes it takes for Suga to ice the cupcakes are filled with comfortable silence. The cupcakes are as delicious as ever and Akaashi gives his approval of the new icing recipe. When he goes to bed that night he sleeps like a rock, and doesn’t remember his dreams when he wakes up.

* * *

 

Akaashi Keiji was miserable. His side ached, his head _throbbed,_ and the radio was entirely too loud.

He can still hear Bokuto humming along to something though, barely there. He doesn’t bother lifting his head, but shifts his legs slightly, trying to keep them from falling asleep in the cramped backseat. As he’s moving his leg he becomes aware of something in his front pocket. When he pulls it out to see what it is, he comes up with a silver sharpie. It’s petty, but he can’t help but to think of how well it would stand out against the black divider in the cop car.

Because he’s in a cop car. Because this is his life now.

When he’d woken that morning it’d been to Bokuto in the kitchen, eating a cupcake and speaking entirely too loudly. Suga had given him a sunny grin and explained that Bokuto was worried about him, and that he would give him the day off if he went to the store and Bokuto was offering a ride.

_“He’s so polite, hmm Akaashi? After everything that happened it would really put me at ease if you let him help.”_

Suga was more than obvious, but at those words Akaashi’s protests died in his throat. Misplaced or not, guilty is a pretty heavy motivator, not to mention he _could_ power through his headache and all over soreness to work tonight, but he would honestly rather sleep.

Which is how he ended up in the back of Bokuto’s squad car, listening to some overly bright pop number and scribbling a pig onto the metal divider between him and the front seat. He wasn’t allowed up there as a civilian, apparently. Annoying.

He doesn’t understand why Bokuto won’t let him ride up front; he doesn’t seem to take issue with breaking other minor cop rules.

The grocery store comes into view and it occurs him that he’s about to go grocery shopping with a cop. Not how he envisioned his morning going; his head throbs just that bit more.

Bokuto makes short work of parking and Akaashi digs Suga’s list from his pocket. It’s not too long, just some produce and, surprise surprise, more baking supplies.

He hears a clap from the front seat and meets Bokuto’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Alright, Akaashi! Let’s go shopping!”

Akaashi doesn’t change his facial expression and simply pulls on the door handle, rolling his eyes when he finds he’s (admittedly predictably) locked in. He rolls his eyes “Yeah, okay, once you let me out. Pig.”

“Aw, c’mon Akaashi, it’ll be fun!” Bokuto gets out of the car and Akaashi is grateful he’s not in uniform, although seeing him in casual clothes is throwing him a bit off. He normally only sees him in the standard blue button down and slacks, the casual shorts and t-shirt are somehow more fitting. Then again, it could just be the fact that Akaashi doesn’t like cops.

If not for the squad car, it’d be pretty easy to forget he’s a cop. Unfortunately for Akaashi, who’s finding himself drawn to the curve of Bokuto’s biceps in the short sleeves of the shirt.

The thought is forced out of his mind when the door is opened for him, Bokuto smiling brightly down at him. He heaves a sigh, and then heaves himself out of the car, wincing slightly at the pain it causes in his ribs.

He stands there awkwardly for a few seconds, looking around the parking lot for a cart stand before finding one. He takes a few steps away from the car before turning back when he realizes Bokuto is still standing at the car, holding the door open with his eyes in some far off place. “Um, Earth to Pig? I’d like to get this done swiftly and without incident, if at all possible.”

Bokuto whips his head back up. “Oh sorry, I uh- zoned out for a bit.” He rubs the back of his neck. “We need a cart, I call pushing it!” Akaashi follows him as he all but runs to the carts, puzzling over the strange behavior only briefly before deciding to just leave him to his weird devices.

Once inside Akaashi goes straight to the produce section, smoothing the wrinkled list and looks over Suga’s neat script. Without speaking Akaashi goes to the cabbage and tries to find a good one, he hears Bokuto pull the cart up behind him. “Cabbage, huh?” Akaashi examines a head before wordlessly placing it in the cart. He feels him peer over his shoulder at the list. “Bell peppers?”

“Suga likes them in stir-fry.” He walks over to them and picks one up, squeezing softly before grabbing a produce bag and putting it in, picking out a few friends for it, Bokuto watching curiously all the while.

He continues to do so as Akaashi gets leeks, cucumbers, and tomatoes. Once they’re at the apples he can’t help but comment. “Have you never seen someone go grocery shopping?”

“I have, I buy real groceries myself y’know. Sorry for staring, it’s just kinda weird seeing you do something so… domestic.” Bokuto shrugs and picks up an apple, looking it over before handing it to Akaashi and grinning.

He lifts an eyebrow but takes it anyway, adding it to the bag. “It’s not _that_ odd, you’ve seen me working.”

Bokuto looks away and rubs at his neck, a nervous tic that Akaashi is becoming very familiar with. “Yeah, but like, you look like you _belong_ at the diner. Well, I guess you don’t necessarily look out of place here, but it’s different, like at the diner it’s customer and server. Here we’re just two people, shopping together.”

Akaashi doesn’t quite know what to say to that, but he knows if he doesn’t reply Bokuto will just keep going. “Well it does feel strange, so let’s get it over with.” He bags the last apples and puts them in the cart, then heads to the baking goods aisle.

The wheels of the cart click behind him as he hears Bokuto following him. He pauses in front of the flour and debates how big of a bag to get. Suga seems to go through them awfully quick lately…

“Well, I didn’t say it was _bad_ different. Just different. It’s actually kinda nice, us hanging out without any kind of social contract making us have to act a certain way.” He doesn’t bother turning around to look at him.

“Nothing’s changed really, you’re still a pig, and I’m still a criminal. Well, alleged criminal anyway.” Selecting the twenty-five pound bag he bends down to pick it up, but is stopped by Bokuto swooping down and snatching it up. He watches him set it in the bottom of the cart with a scrunched nose. “I’m not a cripple you know, I could’ve gotten that.”

Bokuto shrugs “I know you could’ve, but you’re still kinda battered looking, so you must be sore. Plus I’m right here and I’m pretty good at the heavy lifting.” He flexes his arm and looks from it to Akaashi “See?”

Akaashi turns away before Bokuto can see the slight color rise to his face. “Whatever.” He turns his attention to the brown sugar, going for a lighter bag since Suga doesn’t use as much of it, dropping the bag in the cart and sighing. “We’re done.”

“Well, that was quick.”

“No reason to be here any longer than necessary.” He walks to the end of the aisle and then towards the nearest self-checkout.

He hears the cart and Bokuto follow behind him and he waits for both to stop in front of the machine before beginning to scan in the items. Bokuto insists on heaving the flour in front of the scanner, but Akaashi can’t bring himself to protest again. His ribs still ache on every breath; he can’t imagine how it’d feel trying to lift the bag.

Once they’re outside he also insists on loading the groceries into the trunk. Akaashi can only roll his eyes and plop himself into the backseat. When Bokuto gets back in the car Akaashi’s doodled a more detailed pig, underneath the other one.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad was it?” He buckles his seat belt and glances back at Akaashi in the rearview mirror. “What was it you said? Quick and without incident? I’d say we accomplished that!”

Akaashi rolls his eyes again and settles in for the ride back. “I suppose so.”

It’s kind of quiet on the way back, radio turned down so it’s only soft background noise. Akaashi watches the familiar stores and houses crawl by as the car drives on. Then Bokuto clears his throat while they’re stopped at a light. Akaashi really only sees his profile from his seat, but it looks like his jaw is clenched, and when he looks at the steering wheel he’s gripping it so hard his knuckles are bleached of color.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there Akaashi. I could’ve helped, but I wasn’t there.” His voice has a raw quality to it that makes him take pause, thinking over how to best reply.

Eventually, staring at the silver pigs that pop out against the black metal, he finds the words. “I’m not your responsibility. What happened was unfortunate, but-”

He’s cut off by Bokuto, whose voice sounds uncharacteristically soft. “No, you _aren’_ _t_ my responsibility, but you are my **friend**. Even if you don’t-” He cuts off with a sigh, running a hand through his spiky hair. “Look I just want you to know that when I saw how hurt you were, I couldn’t help but think that if I was there I could’ve helped in some way. So just, let me help you more, I promise I can be useful. So just give me a chance, maybe?”

Akaashi is thrown for a loop and finds himself dumbly agreeing, not willing to be acidic or scathing towards such an honest display of emotion. “Okay.”

The rest of the car ride is spent in silence, Akaashi mulling over Bokuto’s declaration, the fact that they might actually be friends. Akaashi can’t imagine why, he’s been nothing but bitter to him, why someone as bright as him wants to be friends he really can’t see. Maybe Ennoshita had a point though; maybe it would be good for him to have someone looking out for him- not that he needed it. At the very least he’d increase his admittedly small social circle and get him and Suga off his back.

Of course once they’re back at Suga’s Bokuto insists on helping carry in the groceries, and they manage to get it all in one trip. When Akaashi unlocks the door the apartment is empty, or at the very least the living room and kitchen are.

Akaashi sets his bags down on the island and Bokuto follows suit. They both stand there for a few minutes, neither looking at the other, until eventually Bokuto clears his throat.

“I should be going, my shift starts in about thirty minutes.” He slowly walks towards the door and Akaashi follows to lock the door behind him.

“Right.” Akaashi opens the door for him and Bokuto steps outside, hovering awkwardly around the doorway.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and Akaashi is momentarily distracted by the way his biceps flex. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

When Bokuto turns Akaashi gives his farewell without thinking.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

He sees Bokuto freeze and realizes what he’s said in the same instance.

Before he can turn around, Akaashi slams the door shut, sliding the lock and all but scrambling up the ladder to his loft, burrowing himself under blankets and willing the heat to dissipate from his face.

He might be in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Das gay"- windy


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where they're in the club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been forever!! Everyone's comments and kudos keep me going, so thank you so much!!!  
> [My super duper beta!](http://iamthewindything.tumblr.com)  
> [art for this au that the friend responsible for it drew](http://abominableve.tumblr.com/tagged/cop-au)  
> [as always, my tumblr so you can scream about this au to me, if you want](http://tuscedomask.tumblr.com)

A pair of wide, golden eyes spans the wall of an old brick building. They’re intricately detailed, as if the artist spent a lot of time on them. Above them sits a pair of thick angled grey eyebrows, and below them neon pink words: “THEY WATCH”.

The building itself isn’t found in an overly busy part of the city, only a few people passing by. Those that do take pause at the crawling feeling that they’re being watched by those overly bright eyes.

* * *

 

Kuroo and Bokuto are on their first patrol of the day, walking in and along less-traveled alleys and sidewalks. They’re trying to figure out whether to get coffee now or later and have almost reached the end of the block when Kuroo takes pause.

“Huh.” He cuts Bokuto off and stares at something in the distance: The wall of some older building that they’re walking towards. Well, the art on it, anyways. “That’s... cute.” He barely gets the word out before he’s snickering, barely trying to contain his laughter.

Bokuto raises his eyebrows and looks closer at the art. Its eyes. Golden eyes. The style is familiar too, like, “…Akaashi?” He turns his head back to Kuroo, “He did this right?”

Kuroo hardly pauses his laughter to reply. “He-He sure did.” Bokuto nods at the confirmation and turns to look at the piece some more, his partner dissolving into laughter beside him.

He doesn’t see what’s so funny about it; it’s a really good piece. “The detail is so good.” His voice is full of awe and he walks towards it, hearing Kuroo follow behind him, laughter quieting a bit.

“It really is. The likeness is truly uncanny.” Kuroo giggles again.

Bokuto feels his eyes widen a bit and looks at the piece closer. “Likeness? This is based on something?”

His best friend’s giggles intensify. “You mean, you don’t- you can’t tell?”

He raises a hand and scratches at his cheek, avoiding Kuroo’s somewhat accusatory look. “Uh. No.” His eyes land on the piece once more and he tries to take in all the details. _THEY WATCH._ So whoever it is, they’re an authority figure. With grey eyebrows, and golden eyes.

Wait.

“It’s ME!” Bokuto slams his right fist against his left palm and practically screams.

Kuroo really loses it this time, doubling over and clutching at his knees as he wheezes. Bokuto can’t help but feel a little embarrassed at how long he laughs. It wasn’t that obvious, was it?

Eventually he pulls it together and stands, wiping tears from his eyes. “You got it. Gold star for you bro.”

He juts out his lower lip into a childish pout. “No need to be rude about this.” He barely resists the urge to poke out his tongue and looks at the looming eyes. _His_ looming eyes. “Huh. So Akaashi drew my eyes. On a brick building. WAIT.”

When he looks over his partner is giving him a serious look, one eyebrow raised.

“Kuroo, what does this mean?” He finds himself in a sudden panic, throwing his hands onto Kuroo’s shoulders. “If Akaashi is drawing me does it mean we’re friends?! He started calling me by name too, so that’s good, right?! But- OH NO this is kinda a protest piece, so enemies?! Does this mean anything?!”

Bokuto finds himself very grateful for his best friend and partner when Kuroo calmly puts his hands on Bokuto’s shoulders, mirroring his stance. Minus the panic. “I’m gonna level with you here.”

He doesn’t nod so much as bobble his head up and down. “Give it to me straight bro.”

Kuroo meets his eyes in a serious gaze, easy-going smirk long gone. “This means one of two things: Akaashi either hates you, or he really, _really_ likes you.”

“Oh.” His feet stay planted and he goes completely still, eyes focusing on an empty paint can a few feet away. “So, how do I tell?” When he looks back at Kuroo, the smirk is back in place and he’s released with a shrug. His own arms fall limply to his sides.

“That, I really can’t tell you.” He turns on his heel. “C’mon, let’s finish up here.”

Bokuto doesn’t catch up, mentally, for a few seconds. “Really? That’s not very helpful. At _all_.”

“You know Akaashi, he’s a hard kid to read.” Kuroo shrugs again as Bokuto catches up to him.

He sighs and his shoulders slump forward a bit. “I’m screwed.”

Kuroo pats him on the back. “Yeah, you are.”

* * *

 

Suga’s diner is as empty as 3 am on a Wednesday gets, only the bespectacled regular sitting in the corner with his coffee. Akaashi finishes refilling the ketchup bottles and cleans up the few messes that had made. Once he’s sitting behind the register he has to resist the urge to wipe down the tables for the third time in an hour. It’s not that he thinks they’re dirty, he just needs something to _do_. He hasn’t been at work for almost a week thanks to Suga. Last night he practically had to sneak out just to get out of the apartment and paint something. Which he felt was pretty ridiculous considering he was an adult perfectly capable of making his own decisions.

He knows Suga only gets this way because he cares, but Akaashi can’t help but just feel…frustrated. Everybody jokes that Suga is a maternal figure, but sometimes some of the things he says reminds him too much of his own mom. Although Akaashi can feel sincerity in those words and he doesn’t know how to respond. How to properly react to being mothered. Is there a way? He wishes he could ask, or even explain that maybe Suga should stop.

Not that he could out right tell him. Besides hurting his feelings, it wouldn’t make sense to him anyways. Nobody in this city knows about his mother. He prefers it that way.

Akaashi feels his nails biting into the skin of his palms as frustration builds anew. He takes a few deep breaths. He’s being stupid.

He has friends that care about him and it’s pissing him off? That’s ridiculous, even for his standards. A few deep breaths later and he’s recollected his head. His hands unclench easily and he feels slightly embarrassed about how angry he’d gotten.

The bell rings and he’s grateful for the distraction. Until he sees Oikawa’s cowlick bobbing across the diner towards him, Bokuto and Kuroo right behind him.

“Aka-chan~ Look who I found on my way over~” His cheerful voice cuts Akaashi’s peaceful silence in half as well as any knife.

“Hey Akaashi!” Bokuto wears his normal grin as he follows Oikawa up to the register.

Kuroo wears a sly smirk that immediately sets Akaashi on high alert. “Morning, buddy.”

Akaashi raises an eyebrow, “Morning, what can I get you to drink?” He takes a step towards the back but is stopped by Bokuto.

“Nothing, we can’t stay long just stopped by to say ‘hi’.” He leans against the counter and Oikawa mirrors him.

The glint in Oikawa’s eyes makes him feel like he’s about to be thrown to the sharks. “Say, Akaashi, isn’t it weird finding a pig out in the street?” His tone is rhetorical, but he gives Akaashi a quizzical look nonetheless. 

Kuroo snorts.

His eyebrow drops and he focuses on keeping his blush down. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” He refuses to take the bait.

Oikawa sighs with his whole body, head and shoulders drooping. “Whatever, Aka-chan.”

Bokuto shifts his weight from one foot to the other and rubs at the back of his neck.

“Hey Oikawa, you didn’t drag us in here just to see you fail at ruffling Akaashi’s feathers, did you?” Kuroo’s smirk is significantly more entertaining directed at someone else.

“I hardly dragged that one in here.” He huffs as he side-eyes Bokuto. “But, yes, I did have a bit of an announcement.”

Akaashi crosses his arms and leans against the counter. This should be good.

“As most of you should know, my birthday is fast approaching. I have secured a venue for the night, and I expect all of you to be there.” At this he takes a moment to level his gaze straight at Akaashi. “I have personally seen to it that you’re available.”

He opens his mouth without thinking. “Which server did you bully into taking my shift?”

“It’s very rude to interrupt people, Aka-chan. And I don’t bully,” He holds a hand to his chest, and puts on his best grin. “I charm.” He looks back to the officers. “Now as for you two, I have good word from a very wily kitten that you’ll have that night available as well. Since that’s settled I’ll text everyone the details later this week.”

Bokuto’s brows draw low over his eyes in concentration. “You wanted us to come here just to invite us to your party? You could’ve done that when you saw us outside.”

“Oh, pig-san you have a lot to learn.” Oikawa pats him on the back a few times.

Kuroo claps him on the shoulder and turns them both around. “Come on, bro, we’ve still got a bit to do.”

“Oh, right. See you later Akaashi!” Bokuto throws him a grin over his shoulder.

They’re almost out the door when Kuroo pauses, “By the way, I really liked those eyes. Uncanny resemblance.” He starts laughing before the door closes all the way, shoulders shaking with the sound.

Akaashi feels the tips of his ears turn red and he nearly chokes on air. He’d only put that up last night, they’d already seen it? He thought they’d never see it anyways; they don’t normally patrol that area.

He’s broken out of his crashing train wreck by Oikawa’s voice. Surprisingly he doesn’t comment on Kuroo’s joke. Maybe he already knows. He probably does. “Kei-chan, I really had no clue you were so fond of bacon.”

He can’t help but to rise to that bait, replying coolly, “I had no clue you were still relying on Kenma for information.” Reprimanding looks aren’t his forte, but he thinks the one he gives Oikawa is pretty good.

“It’s hardly my fault that pudding-kun doesn’t mind sharing, or that he’s so cute~” His voice comes out in a sing-song. “And don’t give me that look, it’s just some info. Honest.”

Akaashi feels a bit relieved at that, he’d always had a soft spot for Kenma. So did Oikawa, and their brief relationship had hardly seemed fulfilling to either of them. He’d hate to see a repeat.

Oikawa sighs and puts his chin on his fist. “Although, they say gamers have pretty nimble fingers…”

Akaashi suddenly remembers he could be refilling salt shakers and backs towards the storage room to get them.

“Kei-chan! You can’t abandon your post-”

“Watch it for me, and please never mention that. Ever again.”

* * *

 

“Akaashi can you pull the cookies out of the oven?” Suga’s voice carries across the apartment, over the sound of the timer crying a high, shrill note from its perch on the kitchen counter.

Akaashi sighs and sets his tablet and laptop aside. When he stands his knees pop and he’s reminded of how long he’s been sitting on the couch. He stretches his wrists and elbows out on the way to the kitchen and grabs one of the oven mitts scattered around the island. A wave of heat washes over him when he opens the door to the top oven and he takes care not to burn himself as he pulls the three full cookie sheets out.

“Done!” He barely hears Suga’s muffled reply from his room before he’s emerging, hair still wet from his shower.

“Thanks, I really needed to wash the batter out of my hair.” He runs a hand through said newly batter-free hair and sighs.

Akaashi nods and watches Suga clean up the mess in the kitchen, just a bit. The island looks like a war zone, covered in dirty batter bowls and trays of finished foods. Batter streaks the granite top here and there, and there’s a small pile of flour sitting near the edge. He wordlessly grabs the dirty bowls and a sponge, wiping down the counters.

“Oh, Akaashi you really don’t have to. It’s fine honestly.” Suga talks over piling cooled cookies into a travel case.

“It’s no problem, you’ve been busy with Oikawa’s party for a while now. It’s the least I could do.” There’s something soothing about the way the counters get gradually cleaner as he goes. His eyes focus on the sponge and the moisture left behind by it, watching the streaks and stains disappear.

Suga sighs, “Well, it’s not like I could say no to baking, not to mention I know Oikawa’s party will be filled with people. With my business cards nearby, this is practically free advertising!”

Akaashi snorts. “This is why you run a business.”

He’s met with a short laugh. “It’s just recognizing opportunity Akaashi, you do it all the time. I’ve seen some of your works.” There’s a soft punch to his shoulder. “I could never even begin to imagine some of the things you come up with.”

He pauses his scrubbing slightly and feels his cheeks warm. “Th-thanks.” He clears his throat. “I guess you have a point, but your sense is… infinitely more useful.”

Suga hums thoughtfully. “To some people. It’s all about perspective.” He’s suddenly beside Akaashi with a sponge of his own. “Come on I made extra cookies, so let’s finish this before they cool off completely.”

Akaashi smiles at the warmth in his chest. Maybe Suga’s maternal instincts weren’t _all_ bad.

* * *

 

The bass in the club pounds insistently against his skull. It’s not annoying yet, just enough to remind him that he can only be out on the floor for so long before he gets sick of it. Oikawa had better make his entrance soon, he’s already been here nearly an hour. He would ask he would be late to their own party, but it’s exactly the kind of thing Oikawa loves to do. Hell, he might even have a valid reason since he insisted on organizing it himself.

Akaashi pushes himself off the bar he’s been leaning on and scans the crowd once more. He takes pause when he notices a familiar mop of hair, dark at the roots and blonde at the ends.

He feels himself smiling and approaches the shorter man. “Kenma-san, it’s been so long.” His voice comes out a bit loud to be heard over the music.

Kenma gives a small wave in response and sips at his strawberry soda. “Hello Keiji.”

“How have you been? Do you still analyze data for the police?” For as long as Akaashi had known him, Kenma had worked for the police. His job was to analyze data to help apprehend criminals, sometimes a specific criminal even. Mostly though, he insisted he just looked for when and where people got mugged the most, and the chief did what he could with that info. He had a good head for seeing patterns, Akaashi knew from his own experience with the man. If not for Kenma he wouldn’t be half as good at avoiding patrols and police in general.

Kenma’s willingness to share his information for apple flavored treats might have been a major factor of their friendship. At least at first it was, as time wore on they began to recognize each other as kindred spirits in dealing with Oikawa’s shenanigans. Apparently Kenma was stuck with Oikawa as a roommate his first year at university. After finding that out, Akaashi understood their familiarity and near friendship a bit better. Oikawa tended to grow on people, whether they liked it or not, lAkaashi knows this better than most people, and so does Kenma. Often when Oikawa does things like this they hang out together a lot.

“I’m alright, and yes, I still do work for them. The chief recently gave me a raise, even.” Akaashi feels a small smile pull at the corners of his mouth.

“You must be doing especially good work, then.” He sips at the mojito he’s been nursing for the past hour.

Kenma shrugs and plays with the tab of his soda can. “I suppose so. I think they want to hire more analysts, maybe make a department.”

Akaashi watches Kenma’s face. “With you at the head? That would certainly be prestigious.”

He shakes his head, once. “No, they’d never put me in charge, but they want me in some leadership capacity. Which would be a pain. I’m going to try to nip it in the bud the next time I see chief.”

A hum is the only reply he can think of- so that’s what he does, nodding slightly. They sit in comfortable silence for a bit before they hear a commotion near the entrance. Several people yell, and he thinks he hears a few girls squeal.

“Tooru must be here.” Kenma doesn’t even turn to look in the direction of the entrance.

“He so loves his dramatic entrances, although it’s hard to complain when it _is_ his party.” Akaashi watches the crowd without really looking; people flitting past his vision without him bothering to try to make out their features.

Kenma snorts. “Speak for yourself, once he sees I at least showed up, I’m free to go.”

He laughs into his glass and takes a sip, savoring the cold burn as it tingles down his throat. “Lucky, he’s gonna expect me to be here most of the night. Maybe I can sneak out at some point.” With a soft sigh, he turns back towards the bar and leans his elbows against it, slumping slightly.

The chatter of the crowd gets increasingly loud all around him before he feels an arm thrown around him. Oikawa’s cologne fills his nose as his face is shoved into a soft tee shirt.

“Aka-chaaaaan~” He’s released and he looks over to see Kenma receiving the same treatment. “And Ken-chaaaaan~ you actually showed up, how wonderful!”

To his credit Oikawa really does look immensely pleased at Kenma’s presence. His grin is genuine and his eyes look bright and chipper; although that could be whatever drinks he’s had between the door and them. In any case, Akaashi knows that despite his teasing and flirtatious behavior, he really does cherish their odd little friendship.

“Happy birthday, Tooru.” The words come out slightly muffled and Oikawa releases Kenma to arm’s length. From where he sits Akaashi can see him squeeze his shoulders once.

“Thank you so much Kenma, you should come out more often.” Kenma looks away and shrugs. “Really, next time I’ll introduce you to some people I think you’d like.” He lets him go and turns towards Akaashi, grabbing his wrist. “Aka-chan come on, you have to socialize with me.”

“Do I really?” Akaashi’s good mood remains intact, but he has to resist a bit. Hanging out near the bar is his thing at clubs.

“Of course! Come on there’s so many people here to celebrate yours truly~ I have to at least say hello.” Oikawa tugs at his wrist.

Akaashi heaves a sigh. “Good night, Kenma-san. It was nice seeing you again.”

“Good luck, Keiji.”  

“Bye kitty-chaaan~” Akaashi sees theKenma makes at the nickname for only a few seconds before Oikawa takes off.

They skirt around the dance floor, greeting people that Akaashi hardly recognizes but who fawn over Oikawa. Then again, he can’t expect to know every person that fawns over Oikawa in clubs. A lot of people comment on his success and every time his smile turns just a bit feral with pride. He worked hard to get where he is, and having people acknowledge that is something he’s always thrived on. Business cards are handed out often enough to remind Akaashi of just how old they are. It also reminds him of his own semi-failing business which takes his mood down a notch. He easily squashes the negative feelings though; he’s got plenty else to focus on right now.

A lot of people flirt with him too, but Oikawa shuts it down quickly. Akaashi has a pretty good idea of why, but he’ll know for sure by the end of the night, he’s sure. It’s always been entertaining watching people flirt hopelessly with Oikawa, and tonight is no exception. He can’t quite blame them, the guy’s got an easy charisma and most of the time he doesn’t know when to stop flirting.

There are a few people that approach Akaashi as well, but he can’t seem to muster up any interest for them. He’s not as into one-night stands as he used to be and a relationship right now is… well he’d rather not think about that either. Especially not the fact that there’s only one person he’s even mildly interested in. He can’t really help it when he thinks that someone is too lanky, or that he’d rather bury his fingers in longer hair, though. It’s for the best though, he hardly has time to breathe between being dragged everywhere by Oikawa.

They finally stop by a set of stairs and Oikawa looks out over the crowd with an overly-pleased smile. “This really is nice, huh Kei-chan?”  

“To you, I’m sure. Have you tried any of the cake yet? I haven’t.” Akaashi slumps his back against the railing of the stairs and sighs.

Oikawa hums, running his fingers through his bangs and flipping them. “Yeah, they gave me some right at the door.” He begins looking out over the crowd with squinted eyes, clearly looking for someone.

Akaashi watches him from the corner of his eyes. “Expecting someone?”

“Yes, actually.” His breathes in a sharp inhale before cupping his hands around his mouth. “Kuroo-chan! Over here~”

He suppresses a snort as his suspicions are confirmed. His amusement dies off as he realizes who will probably be with Kuroo.

“Hey, Hey, Hey! There’s the birthday boy!” Bokuto’s hands clasp one of Oikawa’s and he shakes it with enthusiasm that seems barely contained.

Kuroo strolls up looking cool and confident and giving Oikawa a look that makes Akaashi want to clear out.

“Thank you, Bokuto, or should I call you Pig-san?” Akaashi runs a hand over his face and suppresses a groan. He’s not drunk enough to deal with the three of them, and it’s becoming obvious that he’s never living that down.

Bokuto takes it well, releasing Oikawa’s arm with a laugh. “Just Bokuto is fine, I think I’m more than ready to let go of being called a pig.”

Oikawa’s sly smirk towards Akaashi lasts only seconds, before he’s back to smiling at Bokuto. “Oh, I’m sure you are.” He turns his attention to Kuroo. “You’re late you know? It’s not very polite to make the birthday boy wait.”

Kuroo steps a bit closer. “You’re right, but I think I can make it up to you.”

“Really? You must think you’re a very good dancer.” Oikawa mirrors him, getting closer.

Akaashi looks away and sees Bokuto watching with mild interest, but no surprise. Well, at least everyone here knows the score.

“Bokuto have you tried the cake? Akaashi hasn’t.” Oikawa doesn’t break his eye contact with Kuroo.

It’s an obvious out and Bokuto takes it. “Nope! Come on Akaashi, we should grab some.” Akaashi feels his wrist grabbed for the second time that night and doesn’t put up any disagreement.

Neither of them look back as Bokuto leads them to a booth near the bar. Bokuto releases his wrist and Akaashi tries not to think about how cold it suddenly feels without the warmth of Bokuto’s palm. He raises an eyebrow. “This is not where the cake is.”

Bokuto smiles at him cheekily, eyes bright. “Nope, but you look kinda tired and you don’t have a drink either.” Akaashi blinks in surprise, he’d forgotten he’d even finished it, but he could use another. “In my experience, alcohol helps people have fun, even brooding artist types.”

Akaashi’s jaw drops a bit, is Bokuto… _teasing him?_ “Really?” He’s so caught off guard he says the first thing he thinks.

“Yep! Maybe _especially_ the brooding artist types!” He winks and leaves Akaashi to sit in the plush booth. Is this what being Bokuto’s friend entails? It seems about the same as before, but so far with significantly more teasing.

He isn’t left to his thoughts for very long before Bokuto shows back up. It’s slightly impressive, the way he balances a plate heaped with cake, a shot, and two glasses of…something. The irony of Bokuto bringing the food and drinks doesn’t slip past him either. “Hey Akaashi now _I’m_ serving _you_. Pretty ironic, huh?”

“I would call it ironic, yes.” His facial expression doesn’t change as he picks up a fork, watching Bokuto slide into the seat opposite him. He politely waits for Bokuto to pick up a fork himself before grabbing a bite of cake.

The cake itself is neon green, fluffy, and altogether perfect. Although the dense icing is so sweet he _feels_ his teeth rot. He suppresses a shiver and takes another piece, avoiding the icing this time.

When he looks over Bokuto is more than making up for his lack of enthusiasm for the chocolate icing. In fact he’s licking at his fork and all Akaashi can think is: _Oh, god, why me?_

Bokuto breaks the tense- well tense on Akaashi’s part- silence. “Suga made this right? It tastes just like the cakes at the diner, but I think I prefer it green!”

“Oikawa’s cakes are always green.” His deadpan expression matches his tone. “For the aliens.”

At this Bokuto tears his eyes from the remaining cake in front of him to stare at Akaashi. “Wait, what? The aliens?”

Akaashi shrugs a shoulder, trying not to stare at the icing on the corner of Bokuto’s mouth. “He’s a believer, apparently.”

“You’re joking. There’s no way.” He’s looking at him with those wide, golden eyes, but Akaashi doesn’t feel as threatened by them now.

“Well, that’s what he says, but with him, who really knows? It’s hard to tell his jokes from his truths, and even then they’re sometimes one and the same.” Akaashi sets his fork down and eyes the shot. It’s clear so he’s hoping vodka.

Bokuto gives a short laugh and nods, as if he’s solved some puzzle. “That must be why you two get along so well.”

“You say that as if most of my jokes weren’t just me attacking you.” Akaashi feels a bit embarrassed at the admission, but honestly Bokuto had made himself a pretty easy target.

He shakes his head. “It’s not the jokes, it’s, uhh, how do I explain…” He grabs the last of the cake with a hum and chews on it. Suddenly he points at Akaashi and swallows the cake all at once. “The charm! You’ve both got this kind of mystery thing going on, but Oikawa’s is the loud kind and yours is the quiet kind.” He snaps his fingers. “Like, I’ve seen Oikawa less often than you, but he’s said more to me. But I feel like I know just as much about him as I do about you.” He nods once more.

“You think I’ve got some ‘mystery thing going on’?” He feels his ears heat up a bit and decides to go for the shot. At least with some alcohol in him he’ll have an excuse for the color. It burns familiarly on the way down, and Akaashi lets out a half-sigh as he sets down the glass. He tips his chin back down and Bokuto’s gaze is once again wide-eyed in shock.

Somehow Akaashi is back to being unnerved by the golden stare. Bokuto swallows once then laughs, rubbing his neck somewhat awkwardly. “Sometimes.”

Akaashi sets his chin in his hand and feels the bass pounding at his ears. “I guess that’s supposed to be flattering.” He reaches for one of the drinks but pauses. “Bokuto-san?”

“Yeah?”

“Is that ice water?” He looks back up at Bokuto who looks only mildly embarrassed about it.

“Yup!”

“Can I ask why? Especially after all you were saying earlier?”

“Well, Kuroo and I might have slammed two shots each before we looked for Oikawa.” He grabs one of the glasses and takes a big gulp. “I hate getting hangovers, so I’ll be drinking water with my drinks all night.”

Akaashi puts his chin back in his hand and watches him placidly.

“You should drink some of yours too, y’know.” He sets the now half-empty glass down and grins at him.

He sighs and picks it up, sipping at the frosty water at first, but then taking a bigger gulp. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he’d gotten.

Bokuto excitedly toasts him with his own glass.

* * *

 

Akaashi sips on his second mojito, relishing the minty sweetness and waiting on Bokuto to bring their water refills back. He looks down at the empty shot glasses scattered around the table. He counts about seven, only four of which are actually from Bokuto or himself. Tanaka and Nishinoya had popped by for a few minutes and Akaashi was deeply concerned about how well they got along with Bokuto. They were easily distracted by Kiyoko walking by though, lucky for Akaashi. He could hardly handle those two on their own, but adding Bokuto’s energy to the mix had been… intimidating to say the least.

At least now he was drunk enough to not be utterly paralyzed by his newfound crush. Which was ridiculous because he doesn’t get crushes. Well, not for a while, but it’s also ridiculous that he has a crush on a _cop._

So far Akaashi has managed to rationalize it as being due to his excessive kindness. He’s sure he’ll get over it, he just has to suck it up in the meantime.

He takes another sip of his drink and resists the urge to pout, which is difficult considering how much alcohol he’s had. He’s pulled out of his thoughts by someone sitting across from him.

Someone who isn’t Bokuto.

“Hey Akaashi, fancy meeting you here.”

“Hello Shirofuku-san.” Akaashi watches her carefully, but her face remains pleasantly neutral, eyes hooded.

She sighs and puts her elbows on the table. “You haven’t seen Kaori, have you?”

“Not that I can remember, is she supposed to be here?” At the sigh he gets in reply, he thinks he understands. “You lost her?”

“She’s a grown woman, I didn’t lose her. I just, don’t know where she is.” She slumps over bit by bit, until her forehead is touching the table.

Akaashi hums around his straw.

“Akaashi look I convinced the bartender to give us some tiny umbrellas! Aren’t they cute?” Bokuto walks up and sets their drinks down. He looks like he’s going to say more but pauses at the brunette slumped over the table, in his seat. “Who’s this?”

“Bokuto-san, this is Shirofuku-san.” At the introduction Shirofuku picks up her head and squints at Bokuto. She gasps and sits up straight just as Bokuto’s face lights up.

“Kou?”

“Yukie?”

Shirofuku, who is usually calm, is now embracing Bokuto in an enthusiastic hug. Akaashi can’t help but think he’s not nearly drunk enough to deal with this. Also that Bokuto knows too many people.

“You know each other?” Akaashi hardly hides his surprise, voice still an octave too high for his liking.

Bokuto laughs and throws an arm over Shirofuku’s shoulder, who mirrors the gesture. “We went to the same high school! Same class and everything!” 

“Kou wouldn’t have graduated without my notes.” Shirofuku laughs and claps Bokuto on the back.

Bokuto blanches. “Immediate betrayal! How could you?” He holds a hand over his heart.

“I believe it.” Akaashi watches them both from where he’s still sitting.

Bokuto crouches over a few inches and looks for all the world like he just took a punch to the gut.

She laughs harder and then seems to realize something. “Wait, how do you know Akaashi?” She looks from him to Akaashi with a smirk.

Akaashi sips on his mojito again while Bokuto laughs awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. “It’s kinda funny, actually-” Bokuto’s explanation is cut short by Shirofuku. 

“You guys aren’t a thing, are you?” At that Akaashi nearly chokes and Bokuto freezes entirely.

She looks between them. “That’s a no, then.”

The awkward silence lasts only a few seconds before a tall blonde cuts between Shirofuku and Bokuto.  “Yukie! There you are.”  

Akaashi coughs. “Hello, Suzumeda-san.” She turns towards him as if only just now noticing him.

“Oh, hey Akaashi!” She looks up at Bokuto and points. “Who’s this guy?”

Shirofuku gives a small smile. “Kaori, this is Bokuto. He was at the same high school as us.”

She nods slowly. “Oh, I think I remember him.” She turns back to Shirofuku. “Anyway, Yukie, we should dance!” She grabs the shorter girl’s hand.

“But I wanted more cake…” She looks off to the side.

“Yukie! You’ve already had two pieces.” Bokuto laughs.

“Good to know you’re appetite remains intact Shirofuku-san.” Akaashi takes another sip of his mojito and feels disappointment when he hears his ice clink dully against the glass.

“Akaashi, that somehow feels like an insult.” Yukie narrows her eyes at him slightly. Akaashi shrugs.

Bokuto gasps. “Akaashi makes a lot of things feel like an insult.”

“Don’t be rude to Akaashi, he just has bitch face.” Suzumeda tries to come to his rescue.

Yukie laughs so hard she nearly doubles over, and Bokuto looks as if he’s trying not to laugh.

“Thank you Suzumeda-san. I think.”

“No problem, Akaashi!” Her cheeks are slightly flushed, but she does look a bit proud.

“Come on Kaori, let’s go dance before you try to help someone else.”

She gasps, but lets herself be led away. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Shirofuku turns and speaks over her shoulder. “Good night Bokuto, Akaashi.”

Suzumeda waves with her free hand and practically shouts. “Later Akaashi! Later Bokuto!”

“Good night Suzumeda-san, Shirofuku-san.” Akaashi clinks his ice around his now empty glass.

“See ya around Yukie! Suzumeda!” Bokuto waves at them enthusiastically as they melt into the crowded dance floor.

Bokuto finally sits across from Akaashi and takes a hearty gulp from his glass before speaking. “So how do you know Yukie?”

Akaashi picks up the paper umbrella from his glass and twirls it between his thumb and forefinger. “She runs in similar circles. We were closer when I was more involved in this scene.” He waves his hand vaguely around the club and shrugs, watching the tiny flowers blur as he spins the umbrella.

“Oh, I never took her as someone that would be a big partier. She’s always been so chill. Then again this was the first time I’ve seen her in years.” Akaashi thinks Bokuto might look wistful as he stares up at the ceiling.

“Well, when I met her she was a bartender, these days she helps run a few clubs, if I’m remembering right.” He drops the umbrella onto the table and finally drinks some of his water.

Bokuto looks back down at him. “Whoa, that’s so cool. Go Yukie!”

Akaashi can’t think of a reply, so he doesn’t. Instead, he sips on his water and tries not to get too lost in his thoughts. Which proves easier said than done. When he looks over, Bokuto seems content to sit and pick at the label on a beer bottle. Alcohol might actually mellow him out, surprisingly. He scans the dance floor, curious to see if he can find Oikawa.

When he does find them he figures that Oikawa will probably be occupied the rest of the evening. He and Kuroo are making out on the dance floor. Which isn’t unexpected at all, and also means that Oikawa won’t be needing Akaashi for the rest of the night. In that case he can’t think of any other reason to stay at the club.

Well, he can think of a reason, but not a good one. He doesn’t want to hook up with anyone, and drinking is making him introspective.

He stands and stretches, Bokuto looking up from his bottle. “Where are you going?” His face gets even easier to read when he drinks, apparently. Akaashi honestly wonders how much more earnest the guy could get.

“Home, Bokuto-san.”

“Oh, but it’s still early.” He sounds almost forlorn and goes back to picking the label. That really isn’t helping the slight ache in Akaashi’s chest.

He sighs. “I’ve had a kind of long week.”

Bokuto nods once, slowly. “Right.” He looks back up to Akaashi with wide eyes. “Can I walk you home?”

His head feels just fuzzy enough to be even more disarmed by those eyes, especially when they’re slightly wet like that.

“…Alright.”

* * *

 

After Akaashi’s left to his own devices in the empty apartment he wonders how long he’ll have to put up with this.

Probably not long, his crushes are few and always short-lived.

Still, in his tipsy haze he wonders how far this one might go.

* * *

 

He gets his answer the next week when he’s sitting in Bokuto’s kitchen once more.

Bokuto is crouched somewhat over him, trying to disinfect a gash on his forearm. Fences really seemed to jump out at him lately.

A bead of sweat drips down Bokuto’s face slowly, summer sun beating down through his window. Akaashi gets caught up in following the trace of it and follows it up to where his ridiculous hair shines in it. He can’t help but to marvel at the contrast of it, the way the black stands out against the grey, making it seem stark. Bokuto adjusts his grip and for the umpteenth time he finds himself zoning out on the way his biceps flex under his skin. He forces his gaze away and looks at Bokuto’s face.

His golden eyes are bright as ever, glinting in the sunlight, flecks of lighter yellow visible as he focuses on his task. Nose scrunching a bit, his jaw moves and Akaashi watches him subconsciously chewing on the corner of his lip.

_Oh._

Distantly, he feels a bandage go over the cut, before Bokuto stands up straight. He’s saying something, but Akaashi doesn’t hear it, standing without warning.

“Thank you Bokuto-san, but I have to go now.” Without waiting for a reply, he darts to the door and yanks it open.

He hears a protest behind him, but steps out of his apartment and shuts the door behind him. Once it’s closed, he wastes no time.

His crush has escalated to uncomfortable territory, so Akaashi copes the best way he knows how.

He runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no oikawa ships are really set in stone, I have a very vague idea of what I want to do, but it could go any way.   
> I AM going to try to add more ships in steadily, from this point on. Also at this point, I'm very pleased to say we're (obviously) getting into the thick of it.


	9. Bonus!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of backstory while you guys wait on the actual new chapter. Unbeta-ed for now because I'm too excited to upload!

It’s always hard for him to pinpoint the start of it, exactly, it’s not some date ingrained in his mind. There’s never a definitive start, rather hints at what might come, discreet as a change in tone or attitude towards something. Then again, why would he remember a date, it started when he was so young.

One incident, stands out though, crystal clear and sharp in his mind. It has the clarity that few memories do, he can recall every word in perfect detail, the tone, the intonation. He wishes he didn’t, though.  

He was six, maybe, and drawing something at the coffee table in the living room, some cartoon playing on the flat screen in front of him. His crayons were scattered all over the table, alongside past drawings and empty sheets, ready to become vessels for his expansive imaginings. The sounds of his mother on the phone drift towards him from the kitchen and he pokes out his tongue in focus before adding a finishing touch to his drawing. He stands up abruptly and carefully lifts the paper from the table, taking care not to rip or smudge it as he walks into the kitchen.

“Mama!” He pauses in the doorway and watches her back, since she’s turned away from him, staring out of the window over the kitchen sink. Shoulders hunched and arms held tight, her body a vessel of tension, even as young as he is, Keiji recognizes the body posture of someone in a bad mood. He remains standing there though, certain that his drawing will cheer her up.  “Mamaaaa!”

She turns her head and her hair swishes around her, Keiji admires the shiny black locks as they bounce to settle between her shoulder blades. “Keiji, not now, it’s your father.”

Keiji’s mood drops a bit, his mom always seems sad after talking to dad. He doesn’t get what the big deal is, he hardly ever sees him, and he NEVER wants to play with him when he is home. His lower lip juts out in a pout and he watches his mother’s back as she turns back around.

“No, he’s fine it’s just- No, no really- Alright. Love you too. I will.” Her shoulders sink back down as she sighs and brings the phone down from her ear. The turning of her head allows her to examine Keiji without actually facing him, he feels isolated by the cold, distant look in her eyes.

It dissipates after a few moments and she sighs once more before turning and facing him fully to approach him at the doorway. Once she’s directly in front of him she crouches “What is it?”

He suddenly feels bashful with her right in front of him and begins fidgeting. “I drew something.”

“Really now? And what did you draw?” She takes the paper once Keiji tentatively holds it out. After a cursory examination her eyebrows lift, ever so slightly. “It looks like the backyard.”

His socked foot starts twisting of its own accord “Yeah, I was watching something on the t.v. and got bored.”

She smiles down at him briefly before standing back up “It’s quite an impressive skill to have, I’m sure if you keep it up you’ll have quite the hobby, young man.”

Keiji puffs up a bit. “Well, I was watching on the t.v. that some people sell their art for lots!.”

His mother goes to the sink and he hears the water turn on. “Yes, some people are just that talented,” She pauses and tilts her head. "And lucky."

“Oh, um it got me thinking,” He stares down at the tiles under his feet. “that maybe if I practice lots I could get paid for MY art someday, that’d be cool huh?”

He hears a breath escape from her. “Maybe, but it’s not very likely. You should stick with a more secure career.”

His heart sinks a little, at those words. “Oh.”

“You’re a very bright boy Keiji, you could be anything. You shouldn’t set your sights so low. Besides,” She turns her head and lowers her gaze towards him, but in her green eyes he finds only stern indifference, no affection or even reprimand “being an artist would be a waste of your life.” She shrugs and turns back around, having delivered the words as if they were simple fact, her tone had held no passion or vague opinion.

That’s the first time Akaashi Keiji remembers feeling worthless.   

* * *

 

“Of course officer, thank you so much!” Ten year old Keiji hears the words echo across the tile in the foyer and the tone of his mother’s voice makes his stomach twist. He doesn’t dare move from his spot on the couch, weighed down by the instruction he’d been given the second she’d seen the officer. The urge to run off and escape to his room is great, but he knows she’d just barge in there, so he stays. He doesn’t know what to do with his nervous energy though, so he twists his fingers together and pulls this way and that. He focuses on the way they twist and bend at varying pressures.

The closing of the door ratchets the twisting in his gut up impossibly higher. The click of his mother’s heels towards him makes his head feel fuzzy.

Tears spring unbidden to his eyes. He stares at the ground, trying not to let them spill. Her feet are a blur in front of him and he closes her eyes as she lowers herself into his field of sight. Flinches at her hand on his knee.

“Keiji? Do you want to explain what just happened?” Her voice is calm and even, which somehow sets him further on edge.

He sniffles down a sob.

“Hey, look at me.” The gentle pressure of her hand on his shoulder forces him to acknowledge her.

Tears slide slowly down his cheeks as he opens his eyes and meets his mother’s. They’re cool green, like his, with no warmth to be found in their depths.

“What was all this about?” Her eyes crinkle at the edges and her eyebrows draw down. She looks like she’s trying to figure out a puzzle. It’s the same look she gets at dinner parties when the other ladies aren’t looking.

His eyes dart away from hers and the mentally rehearsed lie rolls off his tongue. “I got lost.”

 _Smack_.

Keiji’s cheek is numb for a few seconds before stinging painfully.

“Don’t lie to me.” Her voice is acidic with disapproval and disdain. “I know what really happened.”

He swallows and feels more tears run down his face. Throat closing up, he accepts what’s coming.

“The police, Keiji? I must treat you quite horribly, what with all your new clothes and full meals and the roof over your head. You really do have it rough, hmm?” She stands abruptly, his eyes stay trained on the floor, but he feels her eyes boring into him. “Some kids out there don’t have half of what you do. I even indulged your silly art whims for so long, letting you attend lessons. But-” She huffs and Keiji feels something in his chest clench. He knows he must look pitiful when he looks up at her just in time to see her flip her hair behind her shoulder. “I think it’s for the best if we discontinue this foolishness. It’s obviously affecting your attitude.”

“NO! Please, no.” His voice cracks and he feels a sob building in his lungs.

“Keiji, I tried, really. I should’ve known this was a bad idea, not to mention your grades have dropped a few points since you started. This is for the best, you’ll see.” At that she turns on her heels.

Keiji feels something snap and he goes from crushed, to frustrated, to furious. “Best for me? Or best for you.” He knows he must sound petulant, but he doesn’t care.

She turns back sharply, with thinned lips and narrowed eyes. It’s the only warning he gets before he’s delivered a slap to his other cheek.

His ears ring as he looks back up at her.

“What was that?” There’s a challenge written in her features and Keiji feels his anger doused with fear.

He doesn’t dare repeat it, but he meets her gaze evenly.

Her perfectly manicured nails wrap around his wrist and bite into his skin ever so slightly. He notes distantly that they’re a pale teal that contrasts well against her skin, and his.

“How dare you say that to me? Everything I do is for you, Keiji. I work to make sure you get the best education, tutors, to make sure you get properly fed and clothed. And what do you do?” The grip on his arm tightens and he feels her shake it once, reminded of the power behind her slight frame. “You go to the police-” His arm is shaken again. “And tell them-” This time the force is increased and he feels his shoulder pop uncomfortably. “That I BEAT YOU?” She releases his arm with disgust.

“How shameful. As if you don’t care about what you put at stake doing that. My reputation, your father’s reputation. Do you even know what would have happened if they believed you? You would have gone to foster care. Where nobody cares about you, where nobody looks out for you. Whether you believe it or not Keiji, I am not your enemy.” She turns and walks away, heels silent until she reaches the kitchen, where they click menacingly.

Keiji scrambles up to his room and doesn’t leave for the rest of the night.

They don’t talk about it again, and he’s pulled from his art lessons. He starts hating the way he recognizes her features in his face. _Her_ eyebrows, _her_ eyes, _her_ nose. The people at parties would gush over how pretty he is, how much he looks like her.

He starts to feel like he doesn’t own himself.

* * *

 

He’s 16 and it’s the throbbing of his ears that wakes him up, and he groans as he rolls over. He brings up his hands to touch them and feels crusted blood underneath his fingertips.

_Gross._

It feels awful, but he can’t help the grins that takes over his face.

He looks over to his alarm clock and sees it’s already eleven. Good, his mom has been out for hours. He sits up and stretches, then looks back at his pillowcase and groans at the specks of blood decorating it. He’ll have to wash them after his shower.

Keiji grabs clean clothes and darts across the hall to his bathroom. After he turns on the shower he gets distracted by his reflection. His messy hair is all over the place, and his eyeliner from last night is smudged to hell. He pushes the tufts of hair covering the tops of his ears back.

There, hiding like little metallic gifts- cartilage piercings, two in each ear. He gives a small smile at his reflection, turning his head this way and that, watching them catch the light. They still have blood and lymph around the edges, dried and disgusting. They’re still the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Once he’s in the shower he takes extra time to wash them carefully and thoroughly, using antibacterial soap. He dries off and gets dressed, then strips his sheets and pillowcases and goes down to the laundry room. After he puts them in the washer his phone buzzes with a message.

He flips open his phone to read it, and feels relief at the content.

From: Mother

Keiji, I’ve been asked to help organize an event today. You’ll have to figure out dinner on your own.

-Mom

 

His phone is flipped closed and he hums to himself. Well, maybe he won’t have to sneak out tonight.

It doesn’t take him long to get himself ready once his sheets are dried and back on his bed. He can’t help but preen at how well his new piercings look with his leather jacket and bright converse.

He takes the stairs down two at a time and sends out a message to find out what’s going on tonight.

* * *

 

Bored sixteen year olds aren’t known for making good decisions, just the opposite actually. Some would argue that’s how Keiji had ended up with his piercings. He would point out that they were done by a licensed professional, but leave out the fact that they were done in his friend’s bathroom. And the fact that the licensed professional was, in fact his friend’s sister.

Still, he could acknowledge that he himself made questionable decisions. Most recently, going to a party that consisted of mostly college kids. He couldn’t say he regretted it, though, even as he rode in the back of a cop car.

It wasn’t just the shots he’d had making him say that. Or the way the older girls had cooed over his eyes and hair. Although those facts definitely helped.

He really couldn’t regret it because of one simple fact: He’d made his decision about university tonight.

For reasons obvious to him and some of his closest friends, he’d been waffling about a major, and therefore a school. Sitting amongst all of those college students, though, he’d figured it out. It was simple, he wanted to do art so that’s what he’d do. He hadn’t the slightest idea what his father would think, but his mother would have to live with it.

Because in a couple short years, he’d be an adult and he would do whatever it takes to shake her control over his life. He held onto some hope that he could sway her, though. If he could just get her to _understand_ how much he wanted this.

Being dropped off by cops, slightly inebriated, would not help him sell it. He really wanted to get off to a good start on this.

“Seriously, just drop me off at the end of my block.” He wrapped his fingers around the metal grating separating him from the front seat.

“Look, kid, we have to hand you over to your parents. You’re a minor.”

He leans his head back and groans. “I really can’t deal with this.”

The older cop in the driver’s seat snorts. “Should’ve thought of that beforehand. Every action has consequences, most kids are smart enough to understand that.”

“Yeah whatever. Trust me, my mother’s gonna give me enough of that. So if you could just go back to silently driving me to my future prison.”

The younger one in the passenger seat clucks his tongue. “Kids these days are quite dramatic. And disrespectful.”

“You’re hardly the first person to say that about me.” Keiji releases the grate and flops back against the seat.

They pull up to his house and he sees his mother already standing on the front steps. “Wait, did you guys call her?”

“Yep, once you gave us your full name we had to.” The younger one unbuckles himself. “Your mom… Well, let’s just say you’re under pretty careful watch.” He starts chuckling under his breath.

He can’t make out her expression in the dark, and he can’t tell if he’s thankful for that fact.

The car is parked and the officer in the passenger seat gets out and opens the back door. “Alright kid, c’mon.” Keiji’s legs were suddenly lead weights, his throat a dry desert. When he got out of the car he remembered the fight from six years ago. He’d been dropped off by cops a few times since that first incident but the closer he gets, the more familiar the look on his mother’s face is. The smile of a doll, putting on the airs of a worried mother, but he knows better, can see the cold intent in her eyes. He has seen that look enough times to know what will happen when he goes inside that house with her. Nothing waits for him inside but her stinging slaps and words, he’d rather leave than follow her back in.

He has no choice though, so he stands rooted to the porch as she thanks the officers and wipes away a few tears. Playing up her concern for her son and gushing about how much good they do. Keiji feels like puking.

She waits until they’ve driven off to turn around and walk into the house, grabbing a fistful of Keiji’s shirt and forcing him to follow. The door closes with a sound like a gavel.

“Out drinking now? Are you really that stupid Keiji? Do you want to ruin your future?” She doesn’t even wait for them to get out of the foyer before she’s tearing into him. “I put you in such an advantageous school, you’re getting top marks and the best tutors. You have so much potential and what do you do? Go out and try to ruin it all for a night of fun. Unbelievable.”

“As if you’d ever actually let me ruin my future.” Keiji feels braver and bitter with the alcohol still coursing through his veins.

“What was that?” She stands with the air of authority that Keiji’s grown used to from her. Barely five and a half feet, but still holding her chin up high and giving him a challenging look. Eyes narrowed to slits and brows arched up just that little bit. Daring him to repeat himself because she’s confident he won’t, that he can’t. She’s so sure that he’s still just a scared little kid, afraid of disappointing his mom and being hit.

He’s anything but. “I said you’d never let me ruin my future, that would mean I have some control over it. And you just can’t have that, can you? Can’t have a willful son ruining all of your intricate schemes.”

It’s a rare occasion that his mother goes red in the face, that she shakes with anger but he watches her do just that. The green of her eyes gets brighter and she grabs him by his collar, “How dare you?”

“What? Are you gonna hit me for being honest?” He feels cool and collected for the first time during their arguments. It makes him feel in control, and he can easily release her grip from his shirt. “I’m going to bed. Night.” He walks past her, towards the stairs.

“Such a hateful, willful child, no wonder your father has all but abandoned us.”

Her words make his blood run cold and he nearly stops right at the foot of the steps, but collects himself enough to go straight to his room.

As he lays in bed he can’t help but recognize that there will be no convincing her. Despair clutches his heart for a few seconds before he steels himself. There’s only one solution left, he’ll just have to leave, abandon this place to go make a better life somewhere else.

He thinks it over, if he waits until graduation that would be the safest. He’d be legally an adult and she wouldn’t have the law on her side, for once. Where to go, though?

He had no clue, and that somehow made it even more exciting. He drifts off to sleep thinking about a better life.

* * *

 

The pulse of the club on the other side of the wall is loud enough that he’s nodding his head subconsciously to the beat. A dry, sputtering sound escapes the can in his hand as it runs dry. He curses under his breath and lets it fall to the ground as he digs at the duffel bag at his feet.

He settles on a different color and has just set back to work when he hears the backdoor to the building slam open. His eyes swivel to the figure that stumbles out, some drunk or high partygoer it looks like. They run their hand through their bangs, sweeping them to the side and sighing.

“Thank god, the air out here is so nice~”

Keiji decides to ignore him and goes back to the piece he was working on. He was still adjusting to the new medium so it looked off to say the least. A few minutes pass before there’s a voice right by his ear.

“Ooo that looks neat.” He doesn’t bother turning to look at him, or acknowledge the comment.

A gasp before he feels the guy adjust himself so he was staring at Keiji’s silhouette. “Wow, a brooding artist type and hot? Been a while since I took the whole package home.”

“Please leave me alone.” He’s only been in the city a week or so, but he’s already gotten tired of unwanted advances. Did something on his face scream target?

“Oh, now don’t be like that, you haven’t even looked at me. I’ll have you know I’m pretty hot.” The voice sounds only slightly smug, mostly it’s matter of fact, somehow Keiji thinks that makes it more annoying.

He turns his head to retort and is surprised to see that the guy is actually pretty handsome. High cheekbones and a sharp jawline, wide brown eyes with long, curly lashes. Definitely a lot of people’s type, but not his.

He tells him as much and watches the guy look dejected for all of a second before his attitude does a complete one eighty. The guy sniffs the air daintily before getting a sly look. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to need a place to live, would you?”

Keiji’s mind flashes to his hotel room and his dwindling funds before he fixes the man with the blankest look he can manage. “What?”

“You smell like hotel shampoo. Guys as pretty as you should smell like booze or cologne or nice things. So, wanna be my roommate?”

He feels his eyebrows draw down and looks the guy over. “I’m sorry, none of what you said makes sense.”

The guy throws his head back and groans. “Never mind that, I need a roommate, and you’re obviously not attracted to me, at least yet. Which was the problem with the last one. So what do you say?”

“It doesn’t seem wise to move in with a guy I met in the back alley of a club.” The guy’s eyes narrow and his lips quirk up in a sardonic smirk.

“Who’s the one vandalizing here?”

Keiji looks down at the paint can in his hand, then back to the brunet in front of him. He throws the can back in his bag with a sigh. “What’s your name anyway?”

A dazzling, triumphant grin spreads across his face. “Oikawa Tooru.” He thrusts his hand towards Keiji, “And what’s my new roommate’s name?”

“Akaashi Keiji.”

“Well Aka-chan, it’s nice to meet you.”  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to write out a few of these scenes because i don't see you guys learning a lot more about Akaashi's relationship with his mother without this. Hope you liked it!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nohebi enters the fray, kinda.

 

“Alright boys, two stacks of pancakes with sides of bacon, a coffee, and a chocolate milkshake.” Oikawa set their orders in front of them without preamble and slides into the booth next to Kuroo. He sets his elbows on the table and holds his face in his upturned palms, heaving a sigh.

Kuroo hardly spares him a glance before digging into his food. Bokuto tries to do the same, but then Oikawa sighs again, louder this time, letting his shoulders sag and staring down at the table. “What’s wrong Oikawa?” He has a feeling he might regret asking, but from what he’s seen of Oikawa, they’d hear about it anyway.

“I thought you two would have noticed by now, to be honest.” He makes a clucking noise in the back of his throat and tilts his head.

Swallowing the food in his mouth with a grunt, Kuroo cuts in. “It’s not our fault, they’re making us complete extra training.” Bokuto nods along.

“I know, I know, you guys haven’t been on regular patrol for like a week and a half, right?” They both nod. “Still, I was wondering if you guys had seen Kei-chan. He’s been pretty scarce around the apartment, and I haven’t seen any of his work in the usual neighborhoods…”

Bokuto deflates a bit, mirroring Oikawa’s posture. “I was kinda hoping to ask you about him.”

Oikawa tips his head back and groans.

Kuroo glances between the two of them. “So I’m assuming he’s not missing, or you and Suga would be in a tizzy.”

The brunet makes a small ‘humph’ sound before turning his head away in a pout. “Of course he’s not missing, but he really only comes home to shower, eat and sleep anymore. Not to mention…”

“What?” Curiosity lights across Bokuto’s face and he leans forward, hovering halfway over his plate of food.

“He might be hanging out in Nohebi.”

Bokuto nearly falls into his food and Kuroo chokes on the coffee he was sipping.

Kuroo finishes sputtering. “Seriously? Again?”

“Again?!” Bokuto’s eyes couldn’t get any bigger.

“It’s not confirmed, just something I heard.” In contrast to his own words, Oikawa covers his face with a hand and takes a deep breath. “It wouldn’t be too shocking if he were, though. He always goes back there, but not normally like this…” The hand over his face coupled with the way he almost mutters makes his speech nearly incomprehensible.

Bokuto looks between the two of them. “So, he hangs around Nohebi often? I knew he was serious about his art, but Nohebi? That neighborhood is totally scary and the cops from that area really don’t follow rules! Is Akaashi insane?”

Oikawa lowers the hand from his face and waves it around vaguely. “He normally only goes about once every few weeks or so, to meet other artists and talk shop. Or whatever it is they do around Nohebi. I’m not really sure, but he never goes at night. Ever. Except lately…” He trails off and looks like he’s concentrating on something far off. “Gah! He’s stubborn but not stupid. I know he’s not putting himself in danger he can’t get himself out of.”

Kuroo crosses his arms and nods beside him. “True, he’s always been pretty good at assessing situations…”

“So, we just leave him be? That doesn’t sit right with me!” Bokuto levels something close to a glare at the two of them.

Oikawa sits up straight and looks him straight in the eyes. “Look, piggy-”

“Can we please drop that?” Kuroo can’t stifle his chuckle and Bokuto pouts for a second before looking affronted and pointing a finger at Oikawa. “And you were all worried after Akaashi not even a minute ago!” 

Oikawa holds up three fingers and counts. “One: You should just accept your cute nickname. Two: I am worried about Kei-chan, but -and this is three- you certainly can’t go to Nohebi yourself. You’d be putting yourself in danger, and if they saw you with Akaashi you’d be putting him in an even more dangerous position.”

“Ugh!” Bokuto stabbed his pancakes and stuffed an ambitious amount of them into his mouth.

“Choking yourself on pancakes isn’t a solution either, piggy.” Oikawa warily watches Bokuto tear into his food with vigor.

Kuroo throws an arm over Oikawa’s shoulder. “Shh, just let him eat his feelings.”

“Shuf uf Kuroo.”

Oikawa grabs the hand dangling at his shoulder and leans into Kuroo. “What was that, pig-kun? I couldn’t hear on account of the food stuffed in your mouth.” He might as well be sticking his tongue out with the grin he’s giving Bokuto.

Bokuto swallows the food with difficulty and glares at the two of them. “You guys are the worst.”

Oikawa hums in agreement and Kuroo gives a lopsided grin as he replies. “Yeah, but you love me.”

* * *

 

When Bokuto steps into his empty apartment he can’t stop the sigh from his mouth.

He had noticed the lack of Akaashi in his life, but he had figured it had been from his new schedule. Actually if he had to count back, the last time he’d seen him had been here, and he’d run out that day like he’d been bitten. Bokuto held up a hand and counted down, that had been about two days before he and Kuroo had started the new training. So it’s been nearly two weeks…

And he was hanging out in Nohebi?

Bokuto sighed again, running a hand through his hair as he walked to his bedroom. His knowledge of that neighborhood was pretty limited, considering he mostly kept to his apartment, the station, his patrol and all the places in between. If he remembers right, it’s a pretty bad place at one of the edges of the city that remains abandoned. Nobody would go there without a reason, which is leaving him grasping at straws to understand why Akaashi would go there, of all places. There’s always the industrial park- wait no, they stepped up patrols there _and_ painted over a lot of it. Could it be all the artists are hanging out there?

He stops in front of his dresser and shrugs, deciding to simply ask Akaashi the next time he sees him.

Five minutes later he’s headed out the door again, wearing and a tank top. Normally he listens to music when he runs, but he decides to forgo it today- he’s got plenty to occupy his mind with.  

Running had never been a workout he preferred, but he feels like it’s more bearable now that he’s in such a colorful part of the city. He’d grown up in a pretty peaceful suburb, which was charming in its own way, he supposed, but there was just so much more going on here, so many different kinds of people doing so many different things. The scenery itself changed almost daily, art appearing overnight to decorate once barren walls and people themselves moving in and out, a rotating cast that changed the very theme of the neighborhood. As he watches the shadows dissipate under the rising sun he can’t help his feeling that today (tomorrow? His schedule is a bit messed up right now) is gonna be good.

He rounds the last corner and sees his apartment entrance once more. Once he bounds up the steps he unlocks his front door and goes straight to his shower.

A few minutes later he’s roaming his apartment in just his towel, dancing along to the catchy pop music crackling from the radio in his living room. His wet hair drips onto his shoulders as he shuffles to the kitchen and pulls leftover take out from the fridge. He sings over the hum of the microwave as he grabs utensils and stops the microwave with just a second left. Not even bothering to sit, he scarfs down his food and puts his dishes in the sink to worry about later.

He walks through his living room and turns the volume down on his radio before continuing to his room. Throwing his dirty towel into the hamper, he pulls on a pair of boxers before plugging his phone into the charger, barely remembering to set his alarm before he flops onto the bed.

The new schedule was a bit more difficult: he had to attend training with Iwaizumi in the afternoons, while still going on late-night patrols. It left a pretty narrow window for sleeping and he found himself cherishing his days off more than ever. He did think it was good though, because if anything he was learning to catch sleep when he could. Like right now, the sun shone down on him and he could hear his neighbors just getting up, yet he felt sleep tugging him down and he didn’t dare resist.

* * *

 

The tunnel was looming dark and ominous, a gaping hole waiting to swallow up anyone foolish enough to enter. Akaashi didn’t often consider himself a fool, but certain days he could admit to his own stupidity.

As he entered the tunnel he had to admit, this was probably one of those days. Or nights, to be precise.

A glance to the right and left would grant him with a better view of the dark green words, barely visible in some parts due to the grit of the tunnels. “NOHEBI” They spelled out, in case someone was truly lost, the only warning they’d get. A warning that Akaashi was ignoring for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of.

No, he knew the reasons, at least some of them. The city officials were shutting down free expression, and this was one of the few neighborhoods where they didn’t make any moves, because they couldn’t. The tunnel itself was part of an abandoned subway project; they’d sealed it over once the budget had been cut. He’s not exactly sure when it had first been opened, but nobody had particularly cared since the entrance wasn’t in a residential neighborhood, so it had stayed open since. They still sent officers in every so often to patrol and try to break up any unsavory activities, but they were easy to avoid. In fact, the community had no issues equally sharing the tunnels; there had been plenty of space for pieces to stay up for weeks.

The problem came when a group decided to take squatting rights. They had enough members and ruthlessness to control the entirety of the tunnels. That was where the name had come from, the group calling itself Nohebi. They’d asserted such a control over the tunnels that they’d become a part of the group and it only made sense to call the place itself Nohebi. That had been a few years before Akaashi had even moved to the city. That is, Nohebi has been this way for as long as he’s known.

Akaashi couldn’t keep the sweat from gathering in his palms and making them clammy. He felt the loose tank top he was wearing stick to his back and resisted the urge to shiver. It was only about twenty feet in, but he already felt like he was being watched. He pulled out his phone and triple checked what the message said before turning on his flash, using it to illuminate the dark tunnel and looking for the signs.

He walks for a few minutes before finding it: an orange arrow pointing inside a doorway that lead to a service tunnel. A deep breath later finds him walking through the narrow opening and ignoring the feeling of being crushed as he searches for more arrows.

The tunnel stays eerily quiet except for the sounds of his boots shuffling along the floor. Normally his mind would wander, but the tension is keeping him firmly rooted in the present. He nearly jumps when he hears voices from somewhere up ahead. From the acoustics he can’t make out who exactly is talking, but they sound familiar. It takes a few more minutes and arrows for him to find the meeting place, but when he does he’s a bit floored.

This room must have been planned as a station, considering the sheer width of it. It’s not that much taller than the rest of the tunnels, but it’s almost twice as wide as them. The concrete for the landing is only partially done, leaving a stage about a half foot off the ground. It’s just high enough for Akaashi to recognize an infamous figure above the heads of the small crowd gathered in front of the landing.

It’s been years since he’s seen Daishou in person, but he recognizes him. The leader of Nohebi, which shouldn’t be too shocking given his current location, but it’s one thing to know you’re in the belly of the beast, it’s another to be looking it in the face.

If the crowd’s chatter is any indication, he’s not late. There’s a stack of flyers being passed among the crowd and he hears a throat being cleared from the direction of the stage. When he looks up he doesn’t recognize the guy taking the center of the stage. A glance around reveals that around half the crowd is also unrecognizable to him.

“Thank you for coming.” Akaashi looks back up to the stage, a bit surprised at how commanding the man’s voice was. He didn’t look like much: tan skin and dark hair and eyes, no visible piercings or tattoos. But when he spoke the quiet murmuring of the crowd died down. “For those of you that don’t know me, my name is Sawamura Daichi.” It rings a few bells in his mind, but Akaashi can’t quite place where he’s heard the name before.

“I’m a journalist and I’m the one responsible for this meeting. I called other journalists and artists in the city to meet here, because we’ve all been affected by the recent changes in the city. Artists of every medium are being censored; art in this city is under attack. And we need to stop it.”

At this the crowd grows restless, Akaashi hears people take to murmuring all around him.

“But.” The hush from before resumes, “We can’t go about it senselessly. There’s something big going on here, and if we all work together, I believe we can get to the bottom of it.”

One of the flyers finally finds its way to Akaashi and he examines it. It’s rather nondescript at first glance, plain black font against white copy paper. The words themselves stand out though, a call to action with a detailed list, encouraging people to watch, listen and report.

“I’m not proposing any grand scheme, just a bare bones, three part plan. One: Gather intel. We’re from all walks of life, with all of us looking for information, we’re sure to get a bigger picture. Two: Plan. With the proper information we can find a flaw, a loophole, and figure out a way to exploit it. Lastly: Act. Between all of us, we’re sure to come up with something useful and with the right numbers we can get it done.” He takes a pause and looks out over the crowd. “We shouldn’t have to put up with this, and if you want to help, this is your chance.”

The crowd breaks into applause, a few even cheering their agreement. Akaashi has to give it to this guy, he seems like a natural leader. Under his direction this just might work. He mentions a sign-up sheet for the emailing list on the front of the stage before stepping back and letting Daishou take center.

“As you all know, Nohebi isn’t some park. Under normal circumstances I would never allow a meeting to be hosted here, but these circumstances aren’t normal. That said, Sawamura-kun made a convincing argument for allowing these meetings to take place here. So during meeting times you’ll find Nohebi to be a more agreeable place, but keep in mind that outside of meeting times, nothing has changed.” His smile is predatory, eyes scanning the crowd in a way that reminds Akaashi of how he felt when he first entered the tunnels. “Just a reminder.” With that he steps back and the crowd takes to chattering all around once more.

Akaashi makes his way to the front of the stage, letting his mind wander a bit. Now that he’s had time to think about it, he’d seen Sawamura’s name on a front page piece before. It was an editorial about the censor laws when they’d still been in proposal stages. Come to think of it he hasn’t seen the guy’s name since the laws were put in place. He hadn’t really thought about it, but he supposed every artist was being hushed. Then again, having your own art painted over was a very sharp and singular worry, he’d learned.  

His mind is in an entirely different place as he finally reaches the clipboard at the front of the stage. He’s just finishing writing out his email address when he hears someone above him.

“Oh? If it isn’t little búho, joining the good fight, are we?”

“Hello Daishou.” The reply is automatic and Akaashi doesn’t look up from the paper until his email is properly written.

“What a cold reply, after all this time you’re not even going to shake my hand? Would a hug be asking too much?” Daishou was never very good at faking sincerity, and he hadn’t gotten any better.

He finally looks up at him and almost immediately regrets it. Another thing that hasn’t changed about him is his gaze. Akaashi gets the same chill he had when he first entered the tunnel, especially having to look up at him like he is now. “Do you need something?” His voice comes out even and calm, not conveying much of anything, except maybe annoyance. He thinks back to his first meeting with Daishou and the contrast to talking with him now.

Luckily, he himself has changed. He’s not the same kid he was when he first got here and he doesn’t intend to be roped into Daishou’s schemes again.

The man bends at his waist to get more level with Akaashi and tilts his head. “Hmm, you do look awfully different these days. The new ink suits you. Did you draw those up yourself?” A fingernail taps against the paint can on his elbow and lingers there, Akaashi looks down at it dully.

“Yes, why do you ask?” He looks back up at him with a raised eyebrow.

The finger exits his personal space and Daishou draws back to his full height, just to step off the stage and hook an arm over Akaashi’s shoulders. “No reason, just thought it looked like your work. You really have improved a lot!”

He doesn’t reply, hoping Nohebi’s leader would take a hint, just this once.

“Say, do you remember the first time we met?”

No such luck today, apparently.

“Daishou-san there’s a few more things I’d like to clear up.” Sawamura walks up and Akaashi sees his escape route. Once he sees Akaashi though, he gets a confused look on his face. “Unless you’re busy?”

He feels the grip on him tighten ever so slightly, “Not at all! In fact, little búho here can walk with us back to the meeting and sit in. You know, he could end up playing a key role in whatever plans are made.”

Up close Akaashi can tell he’s not that much older than him, he can also see the disbelief on his face. “Is that so?” Nevertheless, he takes a step to stand directly in front of Akaashi and thrusts out a hand. “Nice to meet you... búho?”

Akaashi allows a small sigh to escape before taking the offered hand, a bit surprised at how strong the grip was. What kind of journalist was this guy? “I go by Akaashi these days, nice to meet you too, Sawamura-san.”

“Please, call me Daichi.” He releases his hand and gives him a brief smile before turning back to Daishou. “We really should get going now.”

“Right.” Daishou turns around and drags Akaashi with him. “Hey! Kuguri!” Akaashi recognizes the man that barely acknowledges them before Daishou is yelling instructions. “Make sure everyone finds their way out of the tunnels safe and sound, alright?”

They get a nod in return and then Daishou is turning them back around and following Daichi’s back.

They make it into one of the service tunnels before Daichi speaks up. “Do you plan on having everyone escorted out?” Akaashi’s surprised at the tone in his voice, it’s faint, but there’s a bit of bite in there.

“Now, now, these tunnels really can be confusing, and you know there are some dangerous types down here.” Never one to be outdone, the smirk on Daishou’s face is predatory, although Daichi is still ahead of them. Maybe he does it subconsciously; Akaashi doesn’t care to know.

A few more minutes pass before the pit forming in Akaashi’s stomach forces him to act. “Actually I just remembered I was asked to cover for someone tonight. I really should be going.” He tries to escape the grasp on him, to no avail.

“This really won’t take _that_ long now, will it Daichi?” Daishou does a good job of ignoring his squirming and keeping his tone light.

Daichi finally pauses and simply stands in the narrow tunnel for a few seconds. “Well, I think this initial meeting might go on a while, so maybe he can just come to the next one.” He turns to look at Akaashi over his shoulder. “I’ll send you a message of the next time we’re having a meeting like this, if that’s alright.”

“That’s fine.” He looks back up at Daishou and repeats himself plainly. “I really should be going now.”

The hold on his shoulders is finally released and he puts enough space between them that his shoulder brushes the wall. “Alright, alright. Let me show you a shortcut out of here.”

Warning bells immediately go off and he raises an eyebrow. “I can just go back the way I came.”

“No way, this way will be much faster.” Daishou stops and holds a hand over his heart, giving Akaashi an indecipherable look. “Trust me, I know these tunnels like the back of my hand.”

Akaashi can’t help but think that’s exactly why he shouldn’t trust him. Then again, he can’t really hope to avoid any traps Daishou had planned. He was in his turf after all. Leaving the way he’d just come or through the shortcut, he had the distinct feeling that Daishou would adapt any plan to fit.

“Alright. He takes a deep breath and fights down every instinct telling him to run. “Lead the way.”

The shortcut turns out to be rather boring, and as efficient as any shortcut should be. A ladder about a five minute walk from where they’d been, and it leads to almost straight to the surface. Akaashi follows Daishou up the ladder and they emerge into an odd concrete room (maybe an old office of some sort) that looks well used. Akaashi ignores the ratty couches and tables as Daishou does and simply follows behind him, but pauses when he stops at a door and turns back towards Akaashi.

“You can make the rest of the way on your own búho, even a fool couldn’t get lost in this pathway.” He opens the door and when he turns back his eyes are narrowed and a wide smirk has overtaken his face. “And we both know you’re hardly a fool.”

“I go by name these days.” He walks forward and through the door without looking at him, but pauses a few steps into the hallway beyond. “But we both know you already knew that.”

Daishou gives a humming noise. “I look forward to seeing you around more búho~” The door is then shut none too gently behind him.

Akaashi turns back around and faces the dim hallway, bracing himself for anything.

It seems narrow enough that he’ll reach the other end soon enough. The knowledge doesn’t stop the pounding of his heart though, or the way his eyes are perpetually scanning the hallway, looking for any suspicious shapes or movement.

His heartbeat is nearly the only thing he can hear and his eyes finally catch something moving along the ground. He nearly jumps a foot back and braces himself for a trap, hands flung out in front of him and eyes squeezed shut.

After a few moments nothing has happened and he straightens up a bit, opening his eyes and searching for the movement again.

He finally finds the source of his distress and nearly laughs at himself.

A fair- sized rat races along the hallway ahead of him, not even giving him the time of the day. He’s really got to get out of here, before the tension really does make him lose his mind.

Luckily he’s about halfway through the hallway, so he starts walking again and reaches the end in no time. At the end is another door, but this one is heavier and when he opens it he has no clue what to expect on the other side.

With a grunt on his part and a creak on the door’s, it’s forced open and he’s welcomed by the dim lights of the industrial park. He stands there for a few minutes, a bit disoriented.

The entrance he took into Nohebi was a fair distance from the abandoned lot that _used_ to be fair game. He tries to map it out roughly in his head and it makes sense, all those subtle curves had to be adding up to something after all.

It’s also the first time he’s really stood in the industrial park since it’s been painted over. Everything is a shade of beige, red, or some mixture of the two, as far as he can see. He could appreciate the chaos of it more if not for the fact that there were years of culture hidden under there.

Standing there he can’t help but feel the overwhelming urge to do something. He’d come to the meeting with only his cellphone, and now he regretted not bringing his duffel. Still, this was more than an urge to decorate the now barren walls. No, it was deeper than that. He’d always wanted to fix this situation before, but now the feeling surges up anew, flaring brighter than ever and reminding him of what he wants to do.

As he leaves the park and heads back home, he can’t help but wonder if that was Daishou’s trap, because now he’ll definitely be heading back to Nohebi.

* * *

 

A couple weeks later finds him in the thick of the meetings at Nohebi. The large public ones are growing by the day and he finds himself handing out flyers and answering questions, the smaller councils find him reading odd scraps of information and trying to find some sense to it all. He’s grown fairly comfortable in his new capacities as a sort of assistant. The work can be slow-going at times, but that makes progress all the more thrilling. Not to mention that between this, his job, and painting around Nohebi he’s been able to avoid Bokuto- and subsequently, his feelings.

Honestly he does feel rather childish for avoiding him, but it’s better to let his feelings fade than to attempt any relationship. He’s not an idiot; a relationship between the two of them would be bad news for both of them. He knows that, but still, he can’t help but feel a bit guilty for avoiding Bokuto the way he has. All things considered, he has to admit he’s been a good friend to him, for whatever reason.

He’s climbing up the ladder when he’s pulled out of his thoughts by voices from the office area above. It’s strange, ever since Daishou showed him the shortcut he’s been taking it, and in all that time he’s never ran into anyone. It makes sense though; after all the area before the hallway looked like some kind of club room, with the old furniture and alcohol debris he’d seen once or twice. Still, he readies himself for anything as he tentatively pokes his head out of the opening.

The room itself is empty, but the door to the hallway is propped open and he hears voices echoing from outside. He’d rather not deal with any of the people that followed Daishou. He didn’t have any fond memories with them, and he knew they felt the same. He can’t exactly avoid them though; going all the way down and back would be equally, if not more so, dangerous.  

With a sigh he heads down the hallway, keeping an eye out for anything fishy. Once he emerges outside, he’s relieved to see there’s only three people out there, and he doesn’t recognize any of them. Honestly they look fairly preoccupied by whatever it is they’re doing, so he might even be able to sneak out unnoticed.

Unfortunately that’s not the case, as he’s almost past them when one of them, a girl in a beanie, spots him. “Oh, is búho done with his assignments?”

The two guys flanking her stride up to him and tilt their heads. This close they look like twins, both with short cropped hair and wicked grins.

“Sawamura-sensei said he could leave early, it looks like.” The one to his left croons.

The other one replies immediately, “How lucky! Búho, come play with us, Daishou says your fun sometimes.”

“Are you sure he said that? He might have just said he’s fun to mess with.”

“That’s the same thing isn’t it?”

He decides to nip this in the bud. “I have no interest in hanging around here.” The two in front of him don’t seem deterred at all, but it’s the girl that replies.

“Really? But I’ve seen your work, don’t you want to impart some skill on these fledgling artists?” She steps to the side and he can see paint cans on the ground, and on the wall behind her the rough outline of a massive snake.

“I have even less interest in that.” His voice comes out flat and she curls her lips into a pout, fluttering her eyelashes.

She sighs and takes a step forward. “How can you be so mean when we just want to learn?”

He highly doubts that’s all there is to it, and he’s about to say as much when a new voice echoes across the concrete.

“Hey, you can’t be here! What are you doing?”

Akaashi knows the tone of authority well, and the looks on the faces of the Nohebi recruits confirms it.

Before he can even start running, he feels pain shoot out from the back of his head and he’s falling forward. As he lays on the ground, stunned, a familiar voice whispers above him.

“Don’t just stare at me, you know where to go, now go.” Akaashi watches three pairs of sneakers run off in different directions, scattering dust as they went. Then he feels breath across his ear. “No hard feelings, Akaashi, just bad timing.” Then he hears his footsteps running off as well.

As he hears the guard or officer getting closer he’s left to wonder when Daishou had even gotten there, or where in the world he had hidden himself. As he’s being hauled to his feet and nearly blacks out, he’s forced to realize he’s gotten too comfortable in the snake’s den.

* * *

 

“Akaashi!”

Akaashi lifts his head up and spares Bokuto a glance, before letting his head fall back on the table none too gently. His heart still thumped at the mere sight of him and he seriously didn’t need this on top of everything else. He starts banging his head against the table softly.

“Ah! Don’t do that, you have a head wound!” Hands suddenly cover his face and hold his head upright, forcing him to stare into the very pools of gold he’s been avoiding for weeks. “I heard what happened, are you alright? Well I know you’re not but uh- Anyways, I’m taking you home.” His eyebrows scrunch low over his eyes and his eyes look pinched as he looks over Akaashi’s face. “At least they bandaged you up.”

He hums absentmindedly as Bokuto releases his face to un-cuff him from the table; Akaashi finds himself missing the warmth almost immediately.

Bokuto hauls him to his feet and Akaashi sways a bit, closing his eyes and restoring his balance surprisingly easy. When he opens his eyes again he sees why.

He’s leaned against Bokuto, who has just wrapped his arm around Akaashi’s waist and he _really_ doesn’t need this right now. But he also doesn’t need to put himself in any worse shape, so he lets himself be half-carried out of the station.

They’re in the parking lot when Bokuto decides to start making conversation. “Wow you must really have a concussion, you never let me help this much.”

“Hm, yeah.” He’s too tired to split energy between staying upright and an intelligent reply.

“Akaashi! I’m really worried about you.” Bokuto manages to open the back door to the squad car and settles him in the back before joining him.

Akaashi blinks slowly and stares at his tense face. “Bokuto-san what are you doing?”

“Keeping an eye on you, you seem pretty disoriented.” He leans over and buckles in Akaashi and then himself.

“But who’s going to drive?” It’s then that he recognizes the messy hair just visible over the driver’s seat.

“Oi, did you permanently damage your brain?” Kuroo’s voice is grating, but Akaashi does feel a bit glad to hear it again after all this time.

“Maybe.” He stares out the window at the bright lights of the police station, like a beacon in the darkness. Or…. something, his mind’s really fuzzy right now.

At that Kuroo turns around in his seat and stares Akaashi down. “Hey, get it together, you’re really scaring me now.” He turns back around and starts the car. “Man, Oikawa and Suga are gonna be out for blood, I’m staying in the car.”

As Kuroo’s backing out of the parking space Akaashi feels a finger poke his arm. “Hey, Akaashi.”

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“Can you maybe stay out of trouble for like, a month? You’re really giving me gray hair, y’know!”

“Bokuto-san, you already have gray hair.” Akaashi stares at his gelled up hair before poking it once.

“Akaashi!!”

Kuroo laughs for half the drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long, thanks to everyone who's stuck with me!!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news: I have the rest of the fic outlined and it looks like there's about 4 chapters left after this one!  
> Bad news: I'm back to having at least one test every Friday, starting this week.   
> As always I appreciate all feedback and have to give enormous credit to [Eve](http://www.souyoz.tumblr.com) without whom this fic wouldn't exist.   
> And of course the best meme- I mean beta [Windy](http://www.iamthewindything.tumblr.com)

Akaashi was starting to get use to the feeling of waking up with a pounding headache. His mouth was dry, but it didn’t seem worth the effort to wake up just yet. He went to roll over and was surprised at the amount of pillows behind him. And how soft they were. He cracked an eye open and struggled to make out where he was in the darkness. The powder blue sheets were the giveaway and he sighed against them. Suga’s room. His eye slid shut again and he began to recall what had happened last night.

Bokuto and Kuroo brought him back, Suga looked supremely worried. As he was ushered into bed he remembers hearing furious whispering and wondering if Bokuto and Kuroo would be okay.

His head pounds and he craves more sleep down to his bones, but he knows he won’t be able to get any with the way his head is throbbing. He feels like, well like he got hit in the back of the head with something very heavy and possibly metal. Which he did. As he sits back up one of his hands reaches tentatively to the back of his head, which is expectedly sore and tender. Unexpectedly though, there’s hardly a bump, which should be a good sign, he thinks.

When he finally looks to the nightstand he sees a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. With a silent thanks to Suga he pops the bottle open and takes a couple, knocking them back and chugging the water. He must have been out a while to be so thirsty.

Settling back into the pillows he tries to drift back off to sleep, but it doesn’t come to him. Eventually his headache dulls and he can hear people talking in the living room. Its low, but he can recognize three voices. Which is odd because at most there should be two voices. He decides to investigate it  

His feet hit the floor and he stands up with surprising ease. His head swims a bit, but nothing like what he’d expected. Perhaps this injury wouldn’t be so hard to deal with. At least, that’s what he thought before he opened the door a crack and nearly stumbled at the sudden light. His eyes instinctively screwed shut and he brought a hand up to cover them. Still, his head throbbed and panged at the onslaught of brightness.

He brought his hand down and exhaled through clenched teeth, waiting a few seconds to blink his eyes open. It was slow, but he adjusted to it, his headache calming back down to a minor throb. Shaky hands opened the door the rest of the way and he padded through the hallway to the kitchen. The conversation halted and three sets of eyes swiveled towards him when his feet hit the tile.

“Morning sleepy head.” Suga smiled at him and Akaashi couldn’t help but notice the bags under his eyes.

“Sugawara-san, thanks for letting me borrow your bed.” He stood awkwardly just outside the entry to the hallway and looked at the other occupants of the kitchen.

Bokuto sat at a stool, hair uncharacteristically flat, shoulders tense and face pensive. Had he gone home since bringing Akaashi back? Or had he simply sat around, waiting? Akaashi feels his at the thought.

His head turns at the sight of someone shuffling in his periphery. His eyebrows raise at the sight of Daichi standing in his kitchen, awkwardly shifting his weight and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sawamura-san, how did you know where to find me?”

He clears his throat once before answering. “Daishou, he told me to extend his sympathies.”

Akaashi blinks once, slowly. “Right.”  Then he glances back to Sugawara, who’s putting a kettle on the stove.

Bokuto breaks his uncharacteristic silence. “He already told both of us everything. Well, we kind of knew you were at Nohebi, but he filled in the details.”

He can’t find anything to say, so he simply stands there.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m done with Nohebi.” Daichi pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hell I might be done with it all.”

That didn’t come as much of a surprise; he’d always had the feeling Daichi’s morals were too strong to stick around. Then again, it seemed like he’d weighed the pros and cons of working with them, so it felt sudden.

He was of the same mind lately. “I’m feeling similarly, to be honest.” There was an exhaustion settling in his bones that was unrelated to his concussion. It seemed that no matter what he tried he was running up against a wall.

Bokuto looks up at him sharply, and Suga turns around fully. Even Daichi looked a bit surprised.

Under the sudden scrutiny he feels the urge to backpedal. “Ah, or maybe that’s just the concussion. But I do think I’m done with all of this Nohebi business.”

Daichi nods slowly and walks past Bokuto and towards him. “In any case, I’m glad to see you’re in relatively good health.” Akaashi finds his hand clasped in Daichi’s strong handshake once more. “Thank you for all you did for us. I hope you stay out of trouble, you deserve some rest.”

As quickly as his hand was clasped, it’s released and Daichi is moving toward the door. He stops and looks back at Bokuto and Suga. “Thank you for letting me check on him.”

“Thank you for sharing so much with us.” Suga gives him a smile and Akaashi nearly snorts when he watches the tips of Daichi’s ears get red. He’s suddenly certain he’ll be seeing him again.

He opens the door and throws back another farewell before shutting it behind him.

A few seconds of silence follow and Akaashi plops himself down on a stool. He places his elbows on the countertop and watches through his periphery as Bokuto swivels around and mirrors his stance.

“So, Akaashi, we should plot our revenge against Daishou.” Bokuto leans forward a bit.

Akaashi sighs and turns to look at Bokuto. “That’s a ridiculous idea. And you know it.” He watches Bokuto huff up a bit, turning his head so he doesn’t have to look back at Akaashi.

“Well, something’s gotta be done.”

Suga sets three cups of tea down on the counter. “Akaashi’s got a point, Bokuto.” Bokuto deflates a bit, shoulders sagging. “Although I wouldn’t mind giving the guy a good punch.”

Bokuto throws a fist up. “Then let’s figure it out!”

“It’s really no use, you two couldn’t get into Nohebi, and he’s not going anywhere you guys _could_ get him.” Akaashi shrugs and picks up his tea, blowing on it. “Besides, he didn’t do what he did out of some personal vendetta.” He takes a sip. “He might even regret it, it’s not like he’s ever tried to get rid of me.”

Bokuto ignores his tea, curving his back to rest his head on his arms. “Still doesn’t sit right with me, just letting the guy get away with it.”

Another silence overtakes the group. Akaashi’s drowsiness creeps back on him as the tea warms his chest. “Hmm, thank you again Sugawara-san. And you too, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto picks up his head and gives him a puzzled look. “For what?”

“For bringing me back.”

Bokuto runs a hand through his hair as he looks away. Akaashi blinks at him, had he imagined a blush on his cheeks?

“It’s nothing, I just wanted to help when I heard what happened.”

Akaashi stands and stretches. “Nonetheless, thank you.” He turns to look at Suga, whose busying himself with wiping down the counters that already look spotless. “I’ll be going to bed now.”

Suga smiles back at him. “Of course, you need your rest.”

“I should be going then, you look like you need your rest too, Suga!” Bokuto stands and stretches himself, shoulders popping when he rolls them back. “Good night- er, good morning, Akaashi. Good morning, Suga.”

With his farewells said he lets himself out and Akaashi hovers around his ladder. “I’m sorry to worry you, Suga.”

“Ah, it’s just my nature. You shouldn’t hold yourself too responsible. And now I know you’ve got someone else looking out for you.” Suga grins at him before crossing the kitchen to enter the hallway. “Sleep well, Akaashi.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes before climbing up his ladder and collapsing on to his bed.

* * *

 

When he wakes the sky is dark and the apartment is empty. He sits on the couch and stares out the window at the lights of the city. There’s something stirring inside him, a compulsion. Almost as if he’s slept off the weariness that was weighing him down earlier. At the very least he feels as if he should tell Daishou personally that he won’t be seeing him around anymore.

Maybe he’s not as done with everything as he’d thought. Odds are if he goes to Nohebi he’ll get dragged back in to something. He shouldn’t put everyone through another incident again.

He won’t.

He makes himself some food, drinks some water. Turns on the radio while he eats. Tries to read one of the books on the coffee table.

His mind keeps turning down the same road though. The bastard was keeping tabs on him. That had to be stopped, _if_ he could stop it.

It might be a poor excuse to throw himself back into the fray. To continue behavior he was beginning to recognize as self-destructive. 

But it was an excuse, and he really did feel the need to confront Daishou.

He was dressed and out the door, headed to Nohebi before he could think twice. The way painfully familiar despite everything.

With only a second’s hesitation at the entrance, he walked confidently once more into Nohebi.

The location of Daishou is a mystery to him, but he knows he’ll show up soon.

“Ah, there’s the injured little birdie.”

Akaashi hadn’t expected it to be that soon. He watches him step out of the shadows and towards him. 

“I’ve wanted to apologize for what happened the other night.”

Akaashi’s feels his fist clench, nails biting into his palm as Daishou gets closer.

“Those were new members who got a bit carried away. I had to save them nonetheless and you just-”

His words are cut off by Akaashi’s fist meeting his jaw in a solid punch. While he’s hunched over, holding his jaw in one hand Akaashi finishes the sentence. “Happened to be in the wrong place, wrong time, like before right? Whatever. We’re even now.”

The shadows around him begin stirring with movement but stop at the hand Daishou puts up. He spits once before standing and assessing Akaashi with a look close to awe. “I really didn’t think you had that in you. Fair is fair though, and I probably deserved that.”

“So you _do_ have some idea of how despicable you are.”

Daishou shrugs and smirks. “Maybe to certain people, but I look after my own first. It’s been that way since you knew me.”

Akaashi doesn’t bother acknowledging his words, saying what he came to say. “I don’t intend to continue with anymore of this business. I’m done with it. All of it.”

The man across from him barks out a laugh, but halts when he sees Akaashi’s expression. “Oh, you’re serious. Now that does make me sad: the fierce, angry little búho has given up?”

Its bait, and he knows it, not replying, but he can’t help the part of him that ruffles up at those words. “I’m tired of this, tired of always being battered and bruised. Of being angry all the time. So, I’m done.”

Daishou looks him over once before sighing. “Well, if you say so.”

It’s as much acknowledgement as he’s going to get from him, so he turns and begins to exit the way he came.

“Ah, I was going to tell you, there’s a protest being organized, about three weeks from now. A few blocks from the industrial park. Oh, wait you’ll probably be resting, since you’re so tired.” When he turns to look back Daishou is wearing an annoyingly cheerful smile. “Forget I said anything.”

Akaashi doesn’t reply, refusing to be manipulated into going. He leaves the tunnel and makes it home without incident, for once.

He even makes it home before Oikawa and Sugawara. Which leaves him with plenty of time to ignore the gnawing in the pit of his stomach, put there by Daishou’s words.

* * *

 

The cans clank together in his bag as he pushes it to the other side of the room. It’s been a while since he’d gone out and painted anything. He’d spent a week in after he got back from Nohebi, forbidden from work by Suga, Oikawa, and everyone that worked at the diner. It was starting to drive him a little crazy.

All this time to sit around and think was not helping his newfound resolve to stay out of trouble. It only made it harder to ignore Daishou’s words, which had lodged themselves under his skin.

He lay back on his bed and tried to ignore the urge to go out and at least visit some of his old pieces. Not like he even knew what he’d paint.

The stars above him were obscured by the light pollution from the city. He closed his eyes, trying to remember the last time he’d looked up on a clear night and counted the stars. It must have been when he was still a little kid. Maybe he should ask Oikawa if he can go with him the next time he goes stargazing.

Inspiration struck him all at once and he looked over to his paint stained boots and duffel bag. When moments like this hit, he never denied himself the outlet. This wouldn’t be a protest piece either, it would even be therapeutic.  

More excuses, more reasoning with himself, but it worked. His boots were laced and bag thrown over a shoulder before he could stop to think himself down from the idea.

He paused at the bottom of the stairs, outside the back entrance to the diner. Should he stop in, tell Suga where he was going? It somehow felt wrong; it was the first time in a while since he’d felt like expressing something other than anger or outrage. He was almost afraid talking to someone else would break the peace that had settled over him.

Going inside the diner would also risk running into Bokuto, who Akaashi was still vehemently avoiding.

Without further thought to it, he walked through back alleys and narrow roads, ending up at the large brick façade on the side of a restaurant. He walks past it a lot and always thought it would make a great canvas, but he never had anything he thought was worthy of it before now.

He set his bag down slowly and crouched over it, setting up the shades he wanted all in a row along the wall. Standing with the first color he shook it and looked over the wall once more. Then he takes a step back and starts.

The sounds of commotion from the kitchen, the cars rumbling by in the street, the occasional group on the sidewalk- it all melts away to the soft hisses of his paint cans. His vision narrows to his work in front of him. With a flourish of his arm he makes a curve, just the way he’d imagined it. He’s grown so much since he first moved here. Made so much progress with his skills, and yet- this is the first time in years he’s felt so happy making his art. When was the last time he’d felt so at peace, so satisfied with what he was doing?

Underneath his hands, the red brick transformed into a whirling vortex of colors, speckled with lights. A neon galaxy spinning out in green and pink and blue and yellow, and the shades in between where he’d managed to mold the colors together. Pinpricks of random colors stuck out of the vast array, mimicking stars.

When he finally stepped back from it he didn’t know how long it had been. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, and he realized his hands and legs were a bit cramped. Still, it was worth it. He reached down and grabbed a random color, adding his tag.

For the first time in forever there was no extra meaning to what he’d put up. There was no symbolic weight to it, he’d simply wanted to paint stars on a whim- so he had. And it had honestly been the best he’d felt in a while. Protest pieces were satisfying in their own right, but this is what he’d dreamed of. What he’d wanted to do from the start.

As he packs up his paint cans and heads home a heavy realization settles in his mind. You can’t change who you are sometimes, after all.

But God, did he hate losing to Daishou.

* * *

 

The protest was a bit bigger and rougher than he’d expected, somehow. It was in a rather derelict neighborhood, a lot of the buildings looked abandoned, but then so did a lot of this part of the city.

He ignored his reflection in cracked windows, feeling the breeze float over him. Even in the crush of bodies he could recognize the promise of fall in its crispness. It was almost as if he’d blinked and summer had begun and ended in the same instant. Then again, he had kept himself fairly busy with everything that been happening. It only makes sense the season would seem so quick.

A glance around reveals no Nohebi members or Daishou. Smug bastard doesn’t leave his cave for protests, even if they’re practically in his backyard. Although normally at least some members would be present. Akaashi rolled his eyes and trudged on, following the influx of people to the end of a street, where people with megaphones were spouting on. It was impossible to make out the words from his spot in the crowd, but they seemed to be stirring people up.

It was hard not the snort at the sight of the police in their riot gear. Who and what exactly were they here to protect? The busted old buildings? 

Well, in whatever case, Akaashi was here to the end. If he were going to do something, he’d just as well see it all the way through. With that in mind he began to elbow his way to a better spot.

* * *

 

Bokuto was pulled from his dreams by a shrill ringing.

“Hey, Bokuto, where are you?” Kuroo’s voice had an odd edge that managed to wake Bokuto almost fully up.

He sat up fully and pushed his covers off. “Home, I was asleep.” The last tendrils of sleep slurred his words slightly.

“You remember how I was dropping off extra officers and gear for Iwaizumi? At the big protest near the industrial park?”

Bokuto rubbed at his face. “You mean the one that Iwaizumi thinks is gonna get bad?”

“Er, yeah. Well guess who I saw in the crowd as I was leaving?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Bokuto stood up and cast around for pants, or a shirt. Either or both would be great right about now.

If Akaashi was there, then there was a good chance he’d get hurt. Again. Could he get another concussion? Wasn’t that how people ended up vegetables?

Kuroo’s voice cut through to him and made him pause though. “Bo, listen to me. There’s no guarantee this will go south, look-”

Bokuto huffed out a breath. “Right, the guys in that district aren’t out for blood. Either side. Look I just. I have to go, Kuroo.”

“At least go get-”

“No time!” Bokuto ended the call and threw his phone back onto the bed, hastily putting on a clean uniform from his closet. He had to get there fast; he’d better take his own car.

* * *

 

Akaashi had finally gotten to the front of the protest and was listening to the supposed organizers spouting on. They stirred on the crowd to angry chants and Akaashi began to feel wrapped up in it all again. The way he’d felt when he’d painted the other night, he wanted to protect that. For himself and for others.

He wanted to fight anyone who dared take that feeling away from him, especially so soon after rediscovering it.

He remembered walking by the restaurant a few days after painting it. It had already been painted over, gone. The nature of his art was impermanent, but then he had remembered the way they’d plucked museum pieces on a whim. The way they were silencing journalists and media. The way the radio stations had to watch what they said lately. The way corrupt officers took advantage of these new laws to beat up and bring in whoever they wanted. Censorship of this caliber was unjust, it wasn’t right.

The thought of it continuing another second didn’t just make him angry. It made him _furious_.

Others must have been feeling similarly, since a few minutes later found a fight breaking out on the outer perimeter. Like before, Akaashi couldn’t see who started it, who instigated who, but he could see a decision being made right before his eyes.

He watched as an officer reached for something on his belt. Watched him twist something and then throw it into the crowd. Could make out the metal canister as it got closer, felt the push of the crowd around him to get away from it.

Then he felt pain burn across his eyes and mouth, tears springing to his eyes as his world became a blur of light. He choked on his inhale, lungs beginning to hack uncontrollably; he felt his nose run as if it was a faucet. The tears streaming down his face did little to cool the burning he could feel across any exposed skin.

He took a blind step back and ended up shoved, slipping and falling to the concrete. As he tries to scrabble back he feels sharp pain shoots along his calf. His hand reaches down to hold it and he feels blood between his fingers, slick and wet.

Staying on the ground is his best bet, the cacophony of the crowd the only sensation he has that isn’t on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "he feet go pappap"- My ever eloquent beta [Windy](http://www.iamthewindything.tumblr.com)
> 
> The burgeoning question here is "Will I ever stop beating up on Akaashi?" (He's my fave- I swear)   
> Tumblr (feel free to ask me about the fic)- [X](http://www.tuscedomask.tumblr.com)


	12. Chapter 12

Bokuto looks out into the crowd, scanning for those familiar dark curls in the chaos. He stood right at the edge of it all at the top steps of one of the abandoned buildings. Kuroo seemed to be right about it being peaceful, at least for the moment. There was a tension permeating the air that seemed to promise some backlash, some fight, some _thing_ that would grow too big to handle.

Just as he thinks it he sees a scurry of movement near the front and to the left. He can’t make out the people but he watches people converge, focused on one part of the barrier.

Something in the air caught his periphery and he looked up, spotting a canister and watching the cloud of gas that trailed behind it. Seconds after it finished its arc and disappeared the shouting began, almost instantaneous with a near stampede. The space around it cleared and Bokuto watched the canister continue to spew the tear gas, heedless of the people screaming around it.

Dread pooled in his stomach as he heard the crash of glass breaking somewhere.

He continued to search, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t be near the gas.

Of course he spotted him right by it. He caught sight of his silhouette and simply watched for a few seconds, frozen. It really was him, stumbling away from the gas, hands over his face.

Someone rushed past him, causing Akaashi to slip and fall to a sitting position.

Bokuto didn’t waste any more time, fighting through the crowd to try to reach him.

He’s fighting the crowd, people shoving against him in their haste to flee the vile gas, mouths covered and eyes and noses running. At least when he finally reaches Akaashi they seem to be avoiding him, creating a space large enough that he’s not being trampled.

When Bokuto leans in front of him he notices the way he’s holding his left calf. “Hey, ‘Kaashi?? Are you okay?”

Akaashi’s head whips up and he tries to look at him, but his eyes are too swollen and puffy for Bokuto to be sure he can see at all. “Bokuto-san? What are you-?”

His words are cut off by Bokuto’s hands going to his calves to examine the wound. He coughs and feels his hands move abruptly away. “We have to get out of this crowd. And away from the gas.” Akaashi goes to stand but before he can he feels hands around his shoulder and thigh and the next thing he knows he’s being hoisted.

And then he’s being carried.

He really wishes he could see more than blobs. And being carried away had always sounded romantic in those cliché novels, but he feels more like a sack of potatoes. A bleeding, crying, runny-nosed bag of potatoes.

His train of thought is cut off by a scream heard in the distance followed by a gunshot.

He _really_ wishes he could see more than blobs. Or maybe not. Maybe not seeing is better right now. Bokuto increases his pace, Akaashi can tell by the way he starts bouncing a little more.

“Sorry, I think I found a place.” 

Within a few more minutes Akaashi notices the sounds of the crowd become muffled and Bokuto sets him down. He feels Bokuto crouch beside him and hears rustling before his calf is grabbed again. His breath escapes in a hiss at the way that stings.

“Sorry. We’ve gotta get this cleaned and bandaged.” Akaashi sits there awkwardly, feeling the tears and snot on his face start dying as his nose and eyes stop running. His sight might be getting better; everything is still blobs, but with slightly more definition.

Bokuto taking care of his wounds probably shouldn’t feel as familiar as it does. Yet, he can’t help but find comfort in the methodical way Bokuto has of bandaging wounds. For all of his loud personality and bright demeanor, he’s always gentle and focused when wiping away blood and applying ointment. Akaashi even likes the soft way he warns against the sting of antiseptic, how his voice gets quiet and apologetic; that probably says a lot about the state of his life.

His leg is set down and he hears more rustling fabric before Bokuto stands. “Wait here.”

Panic grips his chest and throat at the thought of being left alone right now, half-blind and still wheezing from the gas. “No. I don’t-”

“Hey.” A humanoid blob appears in front of him and he feels Bokuto’s hands hold his. He feels a bit embarrassed that he’s being comforted like this, but at the same time the last thing he wants right now is to be alone. “I have to help out there.”

Akaashi squints, trying to make out Bokuto’s face before he notices something.

“Wait, you brought a first aid kit, but not riot gear?”

Bokuto’s hands withdraw from his own. He at least sounds embarrassed himself when he replies. “Well, I would’ve had to go to the station. And I was kinda in a hurry. Which I was right to be, actually!”

He tries to muster his best glare, although with how puffy his eyes feel it probably isn’t working. Still, he crosses his arms. “I’m going with you. I can help.”

“Akaashi you can barely see. Or walk, with that gash.” Bokuto’s tone is patient and matter of fact. Which makes it even more annoying.

A tense few seconds pass before Akaashi sighs and uncrosses his arms. “Just… don’t leave me alone for long.” He winces internally at how pathetic that sounds.

Bokuto’s reply is gentle nonetheless. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Despite the circumstances Akaashi feels his heart flutter.

* * *

 

The rest of the night continues in much the same vein. Akaashi listens to the chaos outside, heart clenching at every scream. Bokuto brings people in and sets up a shelter of sorts. There’s water bottles passed around at some point.

Akaashi washes his face off and sits against the wall, feeling useless, only able to anxiously wait for Bokuto to return.

At some point his sight starts getting dramatically better. He can make out faces and take in all the people around him. They all seem to be in a similar state to him, with a few people that seemed unaffected walking around the room and passing out water and dressing wounds. He tries to stand up to help out, he’s starting to feel entirely too anxious to sit still. His leg throbs and he can feel new bruises forming along his arms and torso, probably from when he fell.

He supports himself against the wall but is ushered back down by a girl with short cropped blonde hair.

“Woah buddy, just sit back down.” He puts up an effort against her hands on his shoulders, but he’s forced back to sitting easily.

“I can help.”

“I think you should just worry about helping yourself, yeah?”

Akaashi sighs and the girl turns back around, moving on to helping someone near the door.

He stares at a boarded up window, trying to make something out of the total darkness. It’s been quiet for a while now. He hopes that’s a good sign.

The adrenaline rush that had been fueling him all night starts wearing off, leaving him feeling raw and ragged. He feels so tired and fragile, like the slightest jostle might make him fall into tiny pieces. The reality of the situation hits him then, and he looks out over the room - an old office, maybe, he still can’t tell - full of people, nursing their own injuries or others’.

He feels his stomach churn and draws his knees up, wincing at the sharp pain that causes in his calf. His head drops down and he takes a deep breath to steady himself. Focusing on that.

In. Out. In. Out.

His breath falls into a steadier rhythm and he feels a little less breakable, anxiety slowly abating. His eyes start to droop closed, and against all odds, he dozes off.

* * *

 

When he wakes up there’s a warm hand rubbing his back.

“Akaashi?” His name is whispered close to his face, breath fanning hot against his ear in the sharpest wake-up call he’s had in a while.

His head whips up and he squints at the now-empty room. “What?” He manages to croak out just that before he has to cough to clear his throat.

“Everyone else left. It’s uh, over, I guess.” Bokuto stops rubbing his back, but doesn’t remove his hand.

Akaashi’s sight has returned mostly to normal, and he can make out the bags under Bokuto’s eyes. He doesn’t think he looks any better. He can’t seem to get the fog of sleep to slip away completely and he ends up just staring at him silently.

“We should go. I can give you a ride home.” Bokuto finally removes his hand and stands, holding a hand out towards him to help him up.

He still isn’t fully awake but he shakes his head, already seeing the look on Suga and Oikawa’s faces at the state he’s in. This was a mistake, coming here. He can’t do that to them again. “I can’t go back like this.”

Bokuto stares at him, but Akaashi can’t make out what that look is supposed to mean. “Okay. I think I understand.” He yawns and puts a hand under Akaashi’s shoulders. “Let’s leave before I decide to curl up right here on the floor.”

“That doesn’t seem very wise, Bokuto-san.”

“Well that’s just a sign of how tired I am!”

They make it to Bokuto’s car and the drive back to his apartment is quiet. Bokuto looks over at one point at a light and he sees Akaashi’s head slumped onto his shoulder, face peaceful despite everything. His eyes are puffy and his nose is red; in fact his entire face looks irritated, there’s snot dried around his nostrils and his eyeliner is smudged in tracks down his face.

His heart still clenches at the way the rising sun falls over his face, his messy hair and snotty face all combining together to leave Bokuto certain that Akaashi Keiji is the most beautiful person in the world. He’d thought so the first time he saw him, but he’d only grown more certain over the months he’d known him.

Bokuto had really been hoping the feelings would fade, that he’d be able to set aside any romantic feelings so that they could keep up their tentative friendship. But Bokuto wasn’t one for lying to himself, and he could admit to how deep he’d fallen for him. At the same time…

The car behind him honked and Bokuto jumped, fixing his eyes back on the road. The light had turned green. In the corner of his vision he saw Akaashi shift, but his breathing stayed steady.

Whatever tentative thing he had with Akaashi he didn’t want to ruin. That much was clear, but, and maybe this was just hopeful thinking on his part, he could swear there was something more. Akaashi might reciprocate his feelings. Every so often Bokuto could feel… _something_ between them and it made his heart swell.

In any case, he’d have to talk to Akaashi about it soon. Maybe once he was recovered they could talk about it. Although he had the distinct feeling that talking to Akaashi about his feelings might be a bit like pulling teeth.

With a sigh he pulls into the parking lot of his apartment complex. He shuts off the engine and looks over at Akaashi, who is still sleeping peacefully in the passenger seat.

“Hey-” He cuts himself off. It was probably better if Akaashi got to sleep right now. It would probably be better for him, plus he always looked _so tired_. It seemed cruel to wake him up when he could just as easily carry him up to his guest bed.

So that’s what he did. Ignoring his aching muscles, he unbuckled Akaashi and lifted him out of his car. He carried him for the second time within twenty-four hours, but this time didn’t feel as scary. This time he could imagine he smelled Akaashi beneath all the dust and pepper spray.

Unlocking his apartment like that wasn’t easy, and Akaashi nearly woke more than a few times, but it was worth it. By some miracle He managed to get Akaashi all the way into his guest bed without waking him up. Bokuto spent entirely too long taking off his boots before getting a blanket over him. Then he went into his kitchen and made him a glass of water, grabbing the ibuprofen from his medicine cabinet and leaving both on the table beside his guest’s bed.

Bokuto spent a few minutes on whether to leave the door opened or closed before deciding to leave it cracked a few inches open. One last peak into the room assured him that the blinds and curtains were fully drawn, and everything looked in order. With a yawn, Bokuto got himself a glass of water and downed half of it, leaving the rest beside his own bed and collapsing into his sheets and pillows. Physical exhaustion won out against the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind and he was asleep in minutes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so uh. Sorry about that break there. I could make a million excuses about school but that's not important. I'll hopefully have more time to write soon. Probably going to upload the next chapter next week.   
> As always my beta is @iamthewindything over on tumblr   
> My tumblr is @tuscedomask


	13. Chapter 13

Akaashi woke slowly, pulled out of the haze of his dreamless sleep by his aching body. His calf ached, and his entire body felt a bit like a big bruise, but surprisingly his head wasn’t pounding. This time he managed to avoid a head injury, at least.

He opened his eyes and blinked a few times, taking in his surroundings. It was dim, and there were soft cotton sheets below him. The night came back to him quickly and he breathed out a sigh; the allure of going back to sleep was strong.

Maybe he would wake up in a world where last night hadn’t happened after all. He could wake up, go down to the diner and hang out with Suga, Oikawa and everyone else that worked there.

Akaashi knew that wouldn’t happen, though, so he resolved himself to get up and face the day.

As he took in a deep breath he couldn’t help but savor the smell around him. Clean cotton that was crisp and refreshing, but underneath that he could swear he smelled Bokuto’s cologne. When he sat up he saw the glass of water and ibuprofen beside the bed and huffed out a laugh. Some days he had to wonder what he did to deserve people looking out for him the way they did.

He took the ibuprofen and practically gulped all the water down in one go. Then, beginning to wonder what time it was, he looked around the room but the utter darkness provided by the curtains gave away nothing.

With a bracing breath, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and attempted to stand.

Pain shot up his left leg despite his best efforts at keeping weight off of it, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t stand.

A sigh of relief escaped him; he didn’t think it was anything serious, but with how his luck has been lately…

His stomach grumbled and pulled him out of his thoughts. Food first, introspection later.

Looking around once more, he spotted a pile of neatly folded clothes that had to be for him. He picked through them, mostly old sweats and faded shirts. Picking out some at random he changed, although he couldn’t shake the grimy feeling that last night had given him.

He approached the door and peeked his head out, head giving a minor throb at the light assaulting his eyes. The living room was empty of anyone else’s company, but he could hear a shower running somewhere in the apartment. Stepping out of the room fully, he made his way through the living room, taking it all in. He’d been in Bokuto’s apartment multiple times, but never past the kitchen, or for very long.

The living room had an older T.V. and even older couches, but they didn’t look ratty, just worn in. A few photo frames were propped along an end table, but Akaashi left those alone. Here and there were all sorts of tiny owls. Plastic, wooden, painted, plain, even a few that looked like metal.

He couldn’t restrain a snort. It was all so very Bokuto. Something in his chest ached at seeing all the cute little figurines.

Ignoring that, he made his way to the kitchen and looked around. It was clean except for a few dishes in the sink, counters bare of any mess. He opened the cupboards first, looking for anything that he could eat right now to abate his hunger. The first two were plates and cups, but the third held the bachelor’s food he’d expected Bokuto to have. Chips, protein bars, and all sorts of other pre-made foods. Akaashi contemplated his choices before simply grabbing a breakfast bar from the lowest shelf. He hesitated, but grabbed another, knowing one wouldn’t fill him up.

He made quick work of the packaging, taking a bite of the bar and then turning to look for a trash can. Something, or some _one_ rather, makes him pause though. Out of the corner of his vision he catches sight of someone standing in the doorway. He finishes turning to face him fully and is somehow startled at seeing Bokuto. He’d known he was in the shower, but he hadn’t noticed the water turning off.

Bokuto’s hair fell wet and limp around him, a few strands still dripping onto his shoulders. Which were bare, because he wasn’t wearing a shirt for some reason. In fact there was only a towel wrapped around his hips. Probably because he just got out of the shower, some logical corner of his mind supplied. He tries to force his sight back to his face but catches himself following the path of a stray drop of water as it flows down his chest. Then he catches sight of an ugly bruise on his chest, and then another, and then a scrape. Actually, when he looks at Bokuto’s chest and arms there are bruises and scratches covering him. It looked about as painful as Akaashi’s body felt.

He realized he had no idea what things escalated to last night. No idea what Bokuto had been doing while Akaashi was confined to a safe space.

An apology, or a question begins to form in his mind, but before it can take shape he’s cut off by Bokuto laughing.

“AHAHAHA YOU SHOULD SEE YOUR FACE!” Akaashi looks back up to Bokuto’s face and his shoulders are shaking with the force of his laughter. His eyes glisten with tears and his mouth is stretched into a wide smile.

Inexplicably his cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

“And look, your cheeks look all chubby from the food in your mouth!” Bokuto points directly at his face and takes a step closer.

Akaashi gathers the remaining scraps of his dignity and swallows the food still in his mouth, clearing his throat. “Well, it’s not like I haven’t seen you stuff your face before.”

Bokuto’s laughter finally subsides. “Aw, but Akaashi it’s so different when it’s you, normally you look so”- he cuts himself off suddenly, looking at the counter behind him.

He raises a brow at the silence suddenly hanging between them. “Look so what?”

“Um, it’s nothing, just that I’ve never seen you eat like that before.” Bokuto raises a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it sheepishly before clearing his throat. “Anyways, I’m starving too. I can make us some real food, well kinda real. I can’t promise anything close to Suga’s cooking. Should we have breakfast food? It’s closer to dinner time, but I could always go for breakfast.” He brushes past Akaashi to the fridge and rattles around.

Akaashi stands there for a few seconds before looking out the tiny window of the sink. He’s right, the sun is close to setting, a typical start to Akaashi’s day. He continued to stand there, unsure of what to do when something occurs to him.

“Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto’s reply is somewhat muffled from inside the fridge. “Yeah, Akaashi?”

“Are you going to put on pants at any point?”

He hears a thud that he can only assume is Bokuto hitting his head on the roof of the fridge and then Bokuto stands up properly, not looking at Akaashi. “Uh, I guess I should huh. Sorry, I wasn’t really thinking…”

As he rushes out Akaashi sighs and plops into a chair at the kitchen table. It’s going to be a long day, or days, rather.

* * *

 

The game show on the television drones on, pleasant background noise to Akaashi’s internal musings. He’d managed to text Suga before eating and inform him of the situation. Miraculously Suga hadn’t heard any news of the protest until Akaashi texted him, so he’d managed to avoid worrying him too much.

He sneaks a glance at Bokuto sitting on the opposite end of the couch and he doesn’t seem to be focused on the show either. Akaashi briefly considers retreating back to the guest room and sleeping, but he doesn’t feel the least bit tired.

As a contestant is eliminated Bokuto clears his throat. “Hey, Akaashi?”

“Yes?” The break in the silence is welcomed, for once.

“Is the guest room okay? Do you need any more blankets or anything? I didn’t really have a chance to make sure it was ready beforehand so…”

Akaashi glances over at him, but he’s still watching the show. “It’s perfectly fine. And sorry for intruding. I’ll be out of here soon, I think…” He trails off lamely; it’s not like he couldn’t get home on his leg. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but he could definitely manage.

Bokuto turns his head slightly towards him. “No it’s no bother! I’m glad the room is getting some use! I haven’t hosted anyone but Kuroo in like, ever! Besides, you probably shouldn’t be running around on your leg for a while.”  

He doesn’t think it’s that bad, but he couldn’t say so without contradicting his staying here. Instead he turns his full attention back to the television, or at least tries to.

The sound of a phone ringing startles both of them.

“Ah! That’s me, sorry I’ve gotta take this.” Bokuto shoots him an apologetic look before answering the phone and getting up, wandering into the kitchen.

“Hey mom…”

Akaashi tries not to listen in, but still catches snippets in between the television’s droning.

“Yeah, I’m sure there’s towels in the…..well tell her I said ‘hi’ too! What-Of course….He’s doing okay, I think…”

The host of the show laughs with a wide smile, all perfect teeth and high cheeks, Akaashi looks for the remote and begins channel surfing.

* * *

 

Its early afternoon when they eat breakfast next. Somewhat miraculously both of them had gotten up before 3 pm. Bokuto finishes his food first but doesn’t get up from the table, instead pushing his plate to the side so he can rest his chin in his palms. He doesn’t say anything, and Akaashi isn’t looking at him, but he can sense the presence of a question just behind his lips.

“Did you want to ask me something, Bokuto-san?”

“Yeah.” Despite his answer, the only sound for the next few minutes is of Akaashi’s fork meeting his plate with soft clanks.

Deciding not to press, Akaashi simply finishes his meal in the silence, and a few seconds after the last bite is swallowed Bokuto speaks up.

“I was just wondering what your mom was like? I’ve never heard you talk about her, or any family for that matter.”

Akaashi pushes his plate away before looking up at Bokuto, reading his face. He sees only the open, honest curiosity that he’s come to expect from him.

He maintains eye contact with him. “That’s because I don’t talk about her, or any of them.”

“Oh.” Bokuto scrunches his eyebrows down and looks at a stain on the table. “Is it because you don’t get along with them?”

If it were any other situation, any other time or place, Akaashi would have simply snapped that it was none of his business. But he was talking to Bokuto after having relied on him for the past 24 hours, sitting at his kitchen table, in his old clothes no less. Given the circumstances, he didn’t feel as annoyed, rather, he couldn’t allow himself to feel annoyed.

At least that’s how he rationalized the lack of anger and sudden feeling of vulnerability at the question. Such a normal sounding question when Bokuto said it. As if he shouldn’t struggle at all. In fact the way Bokuto phrased it boiled it down to a simple ‘yes or no’.

Akaashi swallowed. “Yes.”

Bokuto simply nodded, perhaps seeing how uncomfortable Akaashi was, and picked up both their plates to take them to the sink.

“So Kuroo called me this morning. Woke me up just to chew me out for being ‘reckless and irresponsible’ when I don’t have to.” Bokuto blew a raspberry and started the water.

Akaashi snorted. “Whatever could he mean?”

“Not you too! He also said I’d have to talk to some superiors once I’m through my sick days, said they didn’t sound very happy at all.”

“Didn’t you go rushing into danger without any gear, when you weren’t even assigned to that area? That sounds like the equivalent of going rogue.”

Bokuto cranes his neck to look at Akaashi. “Well, only to help people!”

“You are undoubtedly bad at your job.”

“Akaashi!”

* * *

 

A few hours later they’re both on the couch again, some old movie playing this time. Akaashi finds himself laughing at one of Bokuto’s stories from before he moved to the city.

“I’m serious!” Bokuto fights a laugh, but he’s still grinning.

“I know, that’s why it’s so funny.”

Bokuto’s face scrunches up a bit. “Hey!”

They fall into a companionable silence, both turning back to watch the movie.

Something niggles at the back of his mind, worming its way to the forefront until he finds himself opening his mouth.

 “I’m not sure if I’d get along with my dad.”

“Huh?” Bokuto turns a wide eyed look to him.

Akaashi doesn’t look away from the television, but continues. “I mean, I don’t know what he’s like. I haven’t seen him in years, and I didn’t see him often growing up. I’m an only child, so when I said I don’t get along with my family, I really meant my mom.”

Bokuto is uncharacteristically quiet.

“We disagree on a lot of things, I think I should make my decisions for myself. She thinks she should tell me what to do with my life. Where to go to school, where to work, who to hang out with. I’m, um-”

He feels his eyes welling up and his throat closing off. “I’m sorry, I-”

Heat envelops him and his apology dies, crushed in his throat by the sobs wracking him all of a sudden. He feels hands on his back rub soothingly, hears Bokuto shushing him quietly. Somehow this makes the tears worse, every breath an ugly, choking gasp as he feels overcome. Both by emotions and the embrace he’s suddenly found himself in.

For a while all he knows is the twisted feeling in his gut as he cries while Bokuto holds him. The feeling of being held while he breaks down, of feeling safe, is foreign. He hasn’t cried in front of someone else in so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like to be comforted. He’s not sure how long they stay like that, but eventually his sobs fade to muffled sniffles against Bokuto’s shirt. Which is a mess now, of course.

“I got your shirt all gross.” He flinches at his own voice, raw and shaky from the way his breath is still hiccupping. He doesn’t look up at him, still so vulnerable he doesn’t think he could stand the look in his eyes. With one last shaky breath he pulls himself back into a sitting position.

“It’s no problem, really.” Akaashi sees him shuffle a bit out of the corner of his sight. “Hey, Akaashi?” Steeling himself, he makes an attempt to wipe his face before looking up at Bokuto. Who is now shirtless. Of course. He drags his eyes towards his face, even though it’s hard to maintain eye contact after… that. “Thanks for sharing, you really didn’t have to. I wish I had something better to say, but um, I just have to tell you that your parents are really missing out. You’re like, the greatest person I’ve ever met.” Bokuto directs his eyes downwards, staring at the floor, and his hands go to his hair running through it. It’s not gelled- he hasn’t styled it the entire time Akaashi has been home- and it looks so soft between his fingertips. “Anyways, we don’t have to talk about this anymore if you don’t want to…”

He looks back up to Akaashi and gives him a reassuring grin, but there’s something else in his eyes. For a moment he sees it, the glimmer of pity in how soft his eyes become, as if Akaashi is something broken.

“Right, I think I’ll just go clean up and go to bed. If that’s alright.”

* * *

 

As the hot water beats against his back Akaashi takes stock of his feelings. Despite the emotional exhaustion his break down gave him, his heart somehow has room to hurt. Of course Bokuto pities him; after a display like that, who wouldn’t? Still, he could never accept the affection of someone who pitied him. That was…

He shook his head, letting the steam turn his senses fuzzy. Moving to the city and escaping his mother was supposed to be just that, an escape. So why did he still carry that weight around? Being loved out of pity was despicable. Then again, here he was assuming Bokuto could ever love him.

Here he was again, being stupid. He shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, toweling off and replacing his bandage. It doesn’t matter. He’s overstayed his welcome anyways, and it was long past time to gather up his things and go. He’ll tell Bokuto once he’s dressed.

But when he crosses the living room, Bokuto’s already gone into his own room.

The sudden heaviness tugging his eyelids down distracts him as well, the site of the bed in his- the guest bedroom tempting. It wouldn’t do him any good to leave when he was tired, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I'm @tuscedomask on tumblr (Feel free to ask any questions, I live for talking about my aus)   
> The always lovely @iamthewindything is my beta   
> I'll post the next chapter soon!   
> PS the next chapter is a doozy, so buckle up


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the fic rating has been set to 'Explicit' for this chapter's content

He woke to the smell of bacon and the sound of grease popping in the kitchen. All plans of leaving escaped his mind at the grumbling of his stomach.

When he entered the kitchen Bokuto was in uniform, hair styled. “Good morning Akaashi, I made you a plate.”

“Thanks.” Akaashi sat and tried not to stare, the sight of Bokuto as he’d always known him reminding him of how temporary this situation was meant to be. Looks like leaving today would be the best course of action after all.

Bokuto slid into the chair across from him, his own plate finished. “So, I have to go in for a shift today to fill out some paperwork and have a pre-disciplinary meeting meeting. Which sounds ridiculous, right?”

Akaashi snorts, “It sounds about right for our police system.” He crunches on his bacon.

“Hey now, that police system paid for that bacon.” Bokuto pointed his fork towards Akaashi in an accusatory manner.

“There’s a pig joke in there somewhere.”

Bokuto lost his serious demeanor and chuckled. They finished up their breakfast that way: light jokes, pretending that last night hadn’t happened, which suited Akaashi just fine.

Just as they each finished Bokuto looked at the clock and gasped. “I’m gonna be late, and I ca’nt be late!”

“Go, I’ve got the dishes.” Akaashi picked up both their plates and started rinsing them.

“Are you sure? You’re the guest, it doesn’t seem-”

“You really are the worst cop, aren’t you? Please just go do your job, even if it’s meaningless paper pushing.”

“Rude, but thanks Akaashi! See you tonight!”

The door slams shut a few seconds later and Akaashi sighs.

It should be expected that the apartment feels empty without Bokuto, he did have a huge presence, but Akaashi is still a bit disoriented. After spending the past few days constantly in Bokuto’s company, the new loneliness is… lonely. In a dull ache, time passing slowly kind of way.

He finds himself watching some sitcom marathon through most of the morning and afternoon. He gets ready to go more than once, and every time his hand hovers over the doorknob. It feels wrong to just leave without saying goodbye; he should at least stay until he gets home.

Mid-afternoon his eyes start to feel heavy, and since he doesn’t have anything better to do he lays down and takes a nap. His dreams are full of golden eyes that make his heart ache.

 

* * *

 

When Akaashi wakes he’s barely disoriented, a quick glance at the clock telling him that Bokuto will be home soon. He stumbles to the bathroom and uses the toilet and then the mouthwash on the counter before lifting the edge of the bandage on his calf. The cut was still tender, so he reapplied ointment before replacing the bandage. Most of the bruises he attained from falling in the crowd are faded to yellow, a barely-there ache. Looking just at his face, you would never be able to tell he’d been tear-gassed.

He feels good physically. He could leave today.

Well, if he’s being honest with himself he could have left two days ago. His wounds weren’t that extensive. If he were to be even more honest with himself, he’d admit why he hadn’t.

But he wasn’t. Which is exactly why he should leave tonight, thank Bokuto once he’s home, and get out of this apartment as quick as possible.

It’s too hard to think straight with the scent of his shower gel and cologne fogging his brain, so he moves out to the living room and sits on the ragged couch. He leans back into the cushions and sighs, but sits straight back up again when he smells Bokuto on the cushions. Realistically there will be no escape; this is Bokuto’s apartment, and so he leans back into the cushions again, letting his body sag.

He’s only taken a few more breaths when he hears the key turning in the lock and he forces himself to stay relaxed, to not bound to the door, to not seem desperate or even eager.

“Akaashi! I’m home!” He turns his head and sees that Bokuto’s arms are laden with take-out bags, which sway as he pauses after shutting the door. “What’re you up to?”

The acting casual thing might be easier to sell if he at least _seemed_ like he was doing anything other than waiting. “Just thinking.”

“Oh. How are you feeling?” He steps into the living room further and sets the food on the coffee table.

Akaashi breathes in the scent and catches a smile just in time at the scent of food and the sight of Bokuto sitting on the couch beside him. “I’m feeling the best I’ve felt.” He takes a breath to psych himself up, but keeps quiet as Bokuto starts talking.

“That’s great! I got coupons for that place a few blocks down and figured it would be a quick dinner. I remembered you said you liked that place too.” He brings up a hand and starts rubbing the back of his neck, smiling sunnily.

Akaashi shakes his head and reaches forward to grab a container and chopsticks. “It’s a good choice.” Staying for dinner won’t hurt, and so he puts off leaving until at least they’ve both eaten.

The meal passes peacefully, with Bokuto bringing up funny stuff that happened in the office, but pointedly staying out of any news to do with the protests. Normally it would piss Akaashi off, but lately he appreciates the sentiment. He’s just so tired. 

He finishes his food first and sips on the soda Bokuto had handed him halfway through the meal, watching Bokuto out of the corner of his eye. When he puts his carton down he gives it a minute or two before facing him and opening his mouth. “Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto turns towards him and meets his gaze, Akaashi puts all his willpower into not wavering under the steady golden stare. “What is it?”

“I just wanted to thank you, for everything. You’ve been- Well, you-” Akaashi fumbles a bit and drops his gaze into his lap, where he’s playing with his hands, folding them in and around each other. “Thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t helped.”

“Hey, it’s really nothing!” Akaashi keeps staring at his hands “Akaashi, seriously.” He looks up and swallows at the intense golden gaze he meets. “I’d do it all again. Honest.”

He nods mutely, and tries to force his gaze away from Bokuto’s eyes, but his own catch on the sight of Bokuto’s lips.

A heartbeat.

When was the last time he let himself have something like this? It feels like ages. He couldn’t have been older than 17, the last time he felt so connected to another human being like this, in this way.

He leans in, slowly, tilting his head upwards, ever so slightly.

What difference would it make, being more than physically attracted to the person he kissed? When the ache he wished to soothe was deeper than any itch he’d felt in years?

He closes his eyes so he won’t lose his nerve.

His palms are clammy and his stomach is in knots. What if this was a mistake, what if he doesn’t feel the same?

Then his lips are softly pressing against Bokuto Koutarou’s and they are much softer than he would have expected, but a bit dry and taste of the take-out. It’s soft and sweet for a few seconds until Akaashi has to push, has to sweep his tongue across Bokuto’s lips.

He gasps softly against him and their teeth clack together but it doesn’t discourage either of them. Hands creep up against his waist, warm and big and reminding Akaashi that he has hands, which he brings to Bokuto’s hair, which is still stiff with product. He huffs a soft laugh, dropping his hands instead to his biceps, marveling at how big his arms feel in his hands. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, he’d seen others carried by these arms, been carried himself by these arms, but he still feels heat pool in his lower half at the feel of them underneath his palms.

Akaashi runs his tongue along Bokuto’s teeth and feels his piercing clink against them, relishing the feeling. Then Bokuto’s tongue meets his and rolls along the barbell and that is _so much better._ He feels drool run down his face a bit, slick and sticky all at once, but he really can’t care when Bokuto’s mouth is so warm and soft.

When Bokuto pulls away he feels bereft, the absence of his hands leaving him cold.

His eyes are so golden and wide and earnest, filled with genuine concern that tugs at Akaashi’s heart. “Akaashi, are you sure? I think we should talk about some stuff first, because making out with you is nice and all, but if we keep going I don’t know where exactly we’ll end up.” At that part his eyes get a bit cloudy and it bolsters Akaashi’s confidence.

“I’m sure. We can talk later, right now…” He pauses deliberately to lean forward and nips Bokuto’s jawline; he’d thought about doing that longer than he liked to admit. His voice drops lower and he practically whispers against him “…I just want to see where this goes, if that’s alright with you?”

Hands are suddenly on his shoulders and he’s elated, until they’re pushing him back a few inches and he’s really trying hard not to roll his eyes. “Hey, look at me.” He meets Bokuto’s gaze dead on, trying to match the intensity and sincerity he sees.

“I won’t regret this, I know I won’t.” Keeping eye contact gets a bit harder and he has to swallow before continuing. “I promise, Koutarou.”

It feels like a cheap tactic, but it works. Bokuto’s eyes widen further before Akaashi finds himself on his back with his neck being lavished in attention. Akaashi winds his fingers in Bokuto’s hair, dissatisfied with the gel obscuring the soft locks. In return Bokuto runs a hand down Akaashi’s chest to ruck up his shirt. He runs his hand up and down his chest and stomach, softly, almost reverently. In contrast he nips at his collarbone and Akaashi feels more blood rush downwards.

Akaashi runs his own hands down Bokuto’s front, to the hem of his shirt and then under it, splaying his fingers out to feel Bokuto’s toned stomach. Shamelessly he feels himself salivating a bit. This position won’t do for what Akaashi wants to do, he can hardly reciprocate like this.

“Bokuto-san.” Bokuto lifts his head up and his pupils are dilated, his lips shiny with spit. Akaashi swallows.

“What happened to Koutarou?” He leans into Akaashi’s space even further somehow.

“K-Koutarou.” Akaashi feels a blush overcome his face. “We should go to a bed.” No sooner have the words left his mouth than the warmth of Bokuto’s- Koutarou’s body has left him.  Akaashi moves to sit up, but before he can he’s being lifted and carried across the room. The color on his face grows deeper and he fights the urge to cover his face as Koutarou lays him gently on the bed. “And clothes, we should both be-”

“Right.” Koutarou’s hands tug at the hem of his shirt and Akaashi lets him take it off, sitting up in the process. Akaashi reaches his own hands out and pulls at Koutarou’s shirt, getting it untucked and unbuttoning it as quick as he can. Once it’s all unbuttoned Koutarou shucks it off and tugs his undershirt over his head. Akaashi stares at the broad expanse of chest in front of him for a few seconds before reaching his head forward and kissing it. He showers his chest in sloppy kisses, before looking up at Koutarou’s face, who has a bit of a flush, finally. While maintaining eye contact he licks a stripe up his chest towards one of his nipples, stopping to nip right at the edge of it.

“Keiji…” Koutarou looks like he’s had the wind knocked out of him. Akaashi takes that as the go ahead to keep doing it, biting and kissing all over his chest, leaving fresh bruises between the old faded ones. With every motion he moves lower, to where he knows Koutarou really wants his attention. Eventually he reaches his belt and Akaashi places one last kiss directly above it before undoing it and throwing it onto the floor with the rest of his uniform. He gets his pants unbuttoned and Koutarou helps him take them off, but when Akaashi reaches towards his boxers he stops them with a hand on either shoulder.

“I don’t think I’d last if…” Koutarou trails off. When Akaashi looks back up at his face he notices Koutarou is just staring at his lips. He licks them and watches him shiver.

He pushes against the hands holding him back. “That’s fine, I can-”

Koutarou becomes more insistent, pushing him onto his back. “I’d really like to be inside you.”

Akaashi blinks as the back of his head hits the mattress. “Oh.” Not the most eloquent thing he’s said in bed to date.

Again, he finds himself with Koutarou above him. “If that’s okay, if not, we can do other stuff.”

He thinks about it for a minute, then a shiver overtakes him. “That’d be great, it’s just been a while.”

Koutarou hovers over him for another second before kissing his nose. Akaashi’s heart stutters. “Gotcha.”

He sits there for a minute while Koutarou rummages through the night stand before sitting up and shucking off his borrowed sweatpants and then his underwear. Come to think of it, it’s the first time he’s been in Koutarou’s bedroom. It’s fairly nondescript though, lacking the memorabilia he’d come to expect of the exuberant cop.

His attention is brought abruptly back to the present when Koutarou appears in front of him again. “Were you expecting some weird posters or something?”

Akaashi snorts. “Maybe. For all I know you’re a sadist.”

Koutarou grins and leans forward until their foreheads touch. “I’d definitely expect you to be the sadist here.” He kisses him on the lips gently, letting their lips mold together. Akaashi hums and licks at Koutarou’s lips, feeling them open up and losing himself in the way they fit together.

Eventually he leans back and Koutarou follows, then their hips line up and Akaashi’s bare dick rubs against Koutarou’s clothed one. They both moan and part, Koutarou leaning back and reaching behind him. Something makes him pause though, staring down at Akaashi’s naked body.

Akaashi knocks him in the ribs with a knee. “Should I handle it myself?” He reaches a hand forward for the lube but Koutarou bats it away.

“No! You’re just really pretty…” A blush rises to his cheeks as he continues staring. “And I didn’t expect you to have a piercing.”

A giggle bubbles up Akaashi’s throat, unbidden. “Really? Is it too much?”

“No, it’s really pretty too!” Koutarou gets a look of determination on his face and then Akaashi’s laughter dies as he feels his hand on his neglected dick. He groans at the contact.

It really has been a long time.

The sound of a cap snapping pulls his focus back a bit, preparing himself mentally.

Koutarou keeps attention on his dick while he rubs a single slicked finger around his entrance, teasing. Then he’s entering it and it feels just as awkward in a not bad way as he remembers. It pumps in and out of him slowly before another is added. The stretch of that stings a bit, but Koutarou is just as courteous a lover as Akaashi had suspected. He starts twisting the wrist of the hand working him up and down as he scissors his fingers a bit.

Fire sparks along his nerves at the pass of one of Koutarou’s fingers and he cries out, bucking his hips. Koutarou gasps and Akaashi looks at his face to see a heavy lidded look of concentration as he searches for that spot once more. He hits the mark and Akaashi feels it once more, flames under his skin and Koutarou is relentless, adding another finger but soothing the stretch by lavishing him in attention. Akaashi stops groaning only to take breaths in. He feels himself climbing higher and higher to that point, but he can’t yet, so he manages to reach a hand out for Koutarou, who pauses.

“Kou- I need.” Koutarou pulls his fingers out, and pulls his other hand away too. Akaashi’s body screams at him for the loss of sensation. He watches Koutarou roll a condom on and coat himself in lube.

They make eye contact suddenly and Akaashi can appreciate how wrecked he looks like this. His hair is completely mussed, pupils blown so wide that only rings of gold remain. “You’re sure?” His voice is so deep it takes Akaashi by surprise, somehow setting him even further on edge. Akaashi did that to him. A thrill of delight runs up his body and he reaches one of his legs up to hook it around his waist.

“I’m sure.”

He lines up and slowly enters, Akaashi feels every inch, burning him as he’s filled. His eyes slip closed, concentrated on relaxing his body. After what seems like an eternity, Koutarou’s finally seated fully in him. He takes a breath and feels the burn dissipate, looking up at Koutarou, who’s looking down at him with a soft reverence that hits Akaashi like a punch in the gut.

Their hands meet on the bed and they link their fingers together, holding onto each other as Koutarou pulls almost all the way out and then back in. The pace he sets is slow and intense, after a few thrusts Akaashi can’t stand to maintain eye contact and leans his head back. Koutarou changes the angle of his thrusts and suddenly he’s hitting that spot again and Akaashi’s arching his back. Driving his hips to meet his thrusts as he moans and then he opens his eyes and Koutarou is hovering over him. Akaashi relinquishes his grip on his hand in favor of grabbing at Koutarou’s back and raking his nails down them.

Koutarou grunts at that and his hips stutter a bit, but he maintains the slow, unrelenting rhythm. Akaashi continues scrabbling at his back. “Kou, Kou, I’m so close.”

Then there’s a hand around his dick again and all it takes is a few thrusts, Koutarou rubbing his thumb over the head and where skin meets metal and he’s coming. Koutarou keeps up the pace of both his hips and his hand, helping him through it.

Akaashi comes down slowly, breathing heavily, Koutarou having stilled inside him. “Why’d you stop?”

Koutarou runs his fingers through Akaashi’s hair. “I wasn’t sure if…” He looks so hot like this, face flushed and lips swollen, chest littered in bruises that Akaashi put there. He pulls him down by the shoulders and kisses him fiercely, trying not to be sad.

Akaashi pulls back. “You should finish.”

Koutarou gasps like the breath’s been knocked out of him, but doesn’t need to be told twice. He continues pumping in shallow thrusts, curling his body forward so that his face is buried in Akaashi neck. He kisses it sloppily and Akaashi feels a rush of affection, holding a hand to the back of Koutarou’s head and digging his fingers into his hair.

“Keiji…” He groans and it sounds so tender that Akaashi feels wrecked in more than one way now. His hips start stuttering. He’s so close, Akaashi can tell. As he reaches his peak he says something else, but the words are buried into Akaashi’s skin, like a secret. It feels a lot like ‘I love you.’

If only.

He stays with his face buried in Akaashi’s neck for a minute, and Akaashi pets his hair. Eventually he pulls out and they both wince. “I’ll get a towel.” He says while taking off the condom. As he walks out Akaashi feels tears sting at his eyes, but he beats them down before Koutarou-Bokuto returns.

Bokuto comes back promptly and helps him clean up, throwing the now dirty towel onto the floor with both their clothes. Akaashi moves over to one side of the bed but Bokuto simply tugs him back into the center with him. “Sorry, I’m a cuddler.”

Akaashi beats down a sardonic laugh. “Somehow I’m not surprised.” Bokuto slots their hips together and tangles their legs, throwing an arm over Akaashi to pull him back into his chest.

“Hmm, I feel like we should really talk about that, but-” He cuts himself off with a yawn.

“I’d rather sleep.” Akaashi allows himself to relax and lean back against the warm, broad chest behind him.

“Yeah… Good night, Keiji.”

“Good night.”

He soon feels Bokuto’s breathing fall into a deep and steady rhythm, and Akaashi feels himself slipping under too, despite the heaviness in his chest. He got carried away. It would’ve been so much easier if he’d just said goodbye tonight. If he hadn’t let himself know Bokuto so intimately. What he couldn’t really have with Bokuto.

Akaashi falls into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

Bokuto wakes in the morning with a start, the bed feeling empty. Which is odd, since it’s always just him in it. Except for last night. He gasps and sits up with a start, looking around, but Akaashi’s gone.

Maybe he’s just in the kitchen, or the bathroom. Without bothering to get dressed Bokuto leaves his room, but there’s no sign of him in the kitchen, or the living room, or the bathroom or even the guest room.

Panic swells in his chest as he paces back to his room, where he notices a piece of paper folded on his nightstand. He swallows as he notices his name on it in neat, blocky handwriting.

He opens it up and lets out a frustrated cry.

‘Thanks for everything. –AK’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry?
> 
>  
> 
> As always I'm @tuscedomask on tumblr and @iamthewindything is my beta (The Best Beta)


	15. Chapter 15

Stretched across the red brick a monochrome woman cried in silhouette, her face cradled in her hands and her shoulders curled forward. It's heartbreaking, the artist's intent clear, but most people are walking straight past it. Save a lone cop, who glances up at it and freezes. He's spent months looking at this style and feeling his heart clench, but this past week it's been-

Bokuto huffs out a sigh and scuffs his shoe on the sidewalk before continuing on his way. He's wearing plain clothes today, wandering around parts of town that he normally doesn't. Parts of town that Akaashi normally doesn't.

It's exactly a week today that he woke up alone, and he hasn't heard anything from Akaashi apart from the note. He hasn't answered a single text or call, and as far as he's heard from Suga he hasn't been home for longer than 30 minutes either.

It's been an awful week, Akaashi so close, but hiding from him. He knows he hasn't left the city because practically every day there's been a new piece of graffiti somewhere, so clearly Akaashi's doing. If he could just _talk_ to him, if he could just figure out what he did wrong. Bokuto finds himself trying to rake his hands through his hair.

Frustration wells up in him, threatening to boil over. He finds himself stopping and ducking into an alley to compose himself.

It wasn't supposed to this way, he was supposed to wake up before Akaashi and stare at his serene sleeping face and then they were going to have their Serious Feelings talk. Instead he gets treated like a one night stand. Well, unless you count all the nights before they had sex. Are you supposed to count those? Bokuto feels his train of thought quickly derailing and shakes himself. He needs a plan, or at least an idea.

He has to talk to him, at least one last time to figure some stuff out.

* * *

 

Kuroo sighs over his coffee and bunches his eyebrows, a furrow appearing in between them. “That sounds like a really stupid idea, Bo. And stupid in the dangerous way.”

Oikawa bustles over with the coffee pot, filling Kuroo's cup up before fixing Bokuto with a look that's equal parts pity and warning. “You know if you go out looking for trouble, you'll find it. Especially if...” for some reason he stops, looking somewhere in the middle distance.

Kuroo tugs on his free hand and gives him a concerned look. Oikawa seems to shake himself out of it. “Well, I suppose if you keep looking for him all you'll get is trouble.” He turns and for a split second there's concern etched across his features, but then his dazzling grin takes over. “Still, you shouldn't give up!” The bell over the door dings and Oikawa snaps his head towards it and he walks over to get them seated, leaving Kuroo and Bokuto to their discussion.

“Seriously though, that might be the worst idea you've come up with yet.” Kuroo takes a sip of his coffee.

“I know it's not great, but what else do I have? He's gotta be there, right?” Bokuto plays with the corner of a napkin, folding it over and over. “It's not like I'm planning on storming the place, I just need to know if he's alright, that's all.”

Kuroo sets his chin on his hand and sighs. “I can't stop you, but just don't do anything too stupid, yeah?”

Bokuto barks out a laugh. “Apparently when it comes to him, that's the only thing I'm capable of doing.”

* * *

 

The art park is starting to look like an art park again, the gray paint gradually being taken over by vibrant colors once more. Bokuto squashes down his nerves as he strides through it and stands at the edge of it. From here he can see the tunnel entrance to that place: the snake's den. That's what the cops in this precinct call it anyway, a fitting name for the residents. It sits at the bottom of a hill, still a ways away. Maybe it's the rumors, but he can't help but feel that it's an ominous eye staring him down. A voice stops him just as he starts towards it.

“Wow piggy, I didn't know you were the suicidal type.”

Bokuto turns sharply and sees a man with green hair and sharp eyes staring at him. His heart sinks a bit; he knew the voice wasn't, but that nickname...

He brings a hand up to the back of his neck. “Is Akaashi here?”

A smile stretches across the man's face before he doubles over in laughter. It's not a soft or light sound; rather, it's a deep, sharp noise and he continues on for a minute before standing back up straight.

“I'm sorry, it's just,” he breaks into another fit of laughter, “what am I, his mother?”

He feels suddenly sheepish, staring at the ground. “It sounded a bit less lame in my head.”

“Well, I'm afraid I can't tell you anything. I've made an agreement.” Bokuto looks up at him, and the man still wears a look of amusement. “Although I suppose I just told you a lot with that.” Suddenly the green hair, the attitude, brings a name to his mind.

“You're Daishou, right? Can I talk to him?”

“Yes, and no. He'll already be upset _I_ talked to you this much.” The amusement that had been apparent before wavers. “You know I can't just let you hang around here, right? Agreements aside, cops- well authority figures in general- aren't allowed near Nohebi.”

Bokuto feels a chill up his spine and looks around, unable to shake the feeling of being watched from everywhere. “Right.”

Daishou nods and turns, but Bokuto has to ask, has to try.

“Did he… say anything… about why he left?”

He stops and looks over his shoulder. “I'd be lying if I said I didn't have an idea, but he hasn't said anything.” With that Daishou walks toward the entrance.

Bokuto has no choice but to leave, but he feels like he's being watched all the way to the art park entrance.

As he makes his way back to his place he finds himself walking by the crying lady again, and stares up at it again. Akaashi was trying his hardest to keep Bokuto away, for whatever reason. Since he's gotten more active again, Daishou must be protecting him.

He can't help but bark out a laugh at that thought. The leader of Nohebi was protecting his crush from him, a cop. At least Akaashi must happy doing this, right? Every time Bokuto had caught him before he'd looked pleased, or serene at the very least. His art was everything, after all.

An idea strikes Bokuto and he pulls out his phone. He'd need Kuroo's help for this one.

* * *

 

“I can't believe this is how I'm spending my Saturday night.” Kuroo looks over his shoulder and nods.

Bokuto sets to work. “It'll only take a few minutes. Trust me, this is gonna work.”

“I'm beginning to think he had a point about you being a bad cop.”

“Not you too!” Bokuto whines and Kuroo shushes him.

“I am _not_ getting caught.”

His only reply is a nod as Bokuto concentrates.

* * *

 

Akaashi's eyebrow twitches. He's come to expect being painted over. The nature of graffiti is impermanent in most cases. But this...

A crude drawing in hot pink covers most of his crying lady piece. He thinks it's a stick figure, but he honestly can't be sure.

Akaashi Keiji is not an artist who gets _painted over_. His works are well respected in the underground art world. He's working with _Daishou Suguru_ right now, and Nohebi is not a group to be trifled with.

Whoever did this is an idiot, or a child, or maybe both. Probably both. Either way, it's not likely to happen again. And if it does, he'll handle it.

He takes the back alleys through downtown, ignoring the pulsing beat of the clubs around him. The sound makes him think of Oikawa, and then Suga and that makes a pang in his heart. He hates doing this to them, but he just needs time right now. Away from everything for a bit, away from Bokuto, and away from his own shitty life decisions. He knows he's running away, but he can't help it. In the end, he's better off alone, or surrounded by people whose intentions are clear. Daishou may not be the best person, but he'll always act exactly the way Akaashi expects him to, and they share a common goal. Even if they seek different means to their ends, for now they can help each other.

So Akaashi gets to keep making art and running away from his personal problems. Win/win.

The thought of visiting Suga and the diner crosses his mind, but he dismisses it quickly. Better off not chancing running into someone else. Once this is all settled down though, he’ll have to pick up major slack at the diner. It’s the least he can do.

With a sigh, he reaches the place Daishou had told him about, and, as expected it’s the perfect canvas. As he stares at it he tries to envision what to place there. Inspiration strikes and he zones out, paint cans hissing in the night air.

When he walks back to his room at Nohebi the sun’s about to rise. He hadn’t meant to stay out so late, but he’d found himself wandering around until he’d felt tired. Partly out of restlessness, partly because he didn’t want to come back yet. There were hideouts scattered around the city he could have used, but at the end of the night crashing at his room there was easiest. Here he knew it would be dark and quiet until the late afternoon. No one at the snake’s den liked to get up early.

Except for Daishou, apparently.

“Hey there, Búho.” He was leaned against the hallway to Akaashi’s room, looking like he himself would rather be asleep.  

The beat up safe houses seemed much more appealing when he was dealing with Daishou before eight in the morning. “Please leave.”

“I just came to tell you your little crush stopped by. Well, actually he isn’t very little, he’s kind of ripped, isn’t he?” His expression doesn’t change, but his tone becomes more engaged.

Whatever, Akaashi doesn’t feel like taking the bait today. Although the thought of running into Bokuto still sets his heart into overdrive, especially after, well, everything. He forces his face to remain neutral. “Don’t care.”

“Wow, I knew you were devastatingly beautiful, but I didn’t figure you for being an active heartbreaker.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes and brushes past him. “I’m really not in the mood for this right now.”

“Alright, alright. Hold on.”

Akaashi stops and turns to look at him.

Daishou looks a lot more awake. “You’re sure he’s not a threat? That we can just leave him be?”

It makes Akaashi take pause. He hadn’t expected to be questioned about Bokuto’s intention. Unbidden, memories of Bokuto flash through his mind. Smiling earnestly, holding him as he cried. Gasping out Akaashi’s name as he-

Akaashi cuts that one off and thinks back further. It’s possible that all of it was a cover, a means to getting closer to everyone willing to take down the censorship. If that’s true, then every act of kindness becomes a carefully considered move, a part of a bigger plot to silence the city for good. He tries to imagine it, a young cop recruited to gain the trust of a key player to take them down from the inside. Those wide golden eyes, so perfectly naïve and innocent, becoming cold and calculating behind his back.

No, that’s all too elaborate, Akaashi snorts. “He’s a terrible cop, but not a bad one.”

Daishou nods and Akaashi can return to his room and collapse in peace.

* * *

 

It’s happened for the fourth time.

Over the past week every one of his pieces has been…vandalized. Which Akaashi can admit is ironic but it’s honestly gotten out of hand. Today it’s a messy golden smiley face, he thinks it’s supposed to be winking but it's not very clear.

This is the last thing he needs. He just wants to make art. It’s the one constant he’s kept since that night and it feels like it’s being stolen from him. It makes his blood boil.

So he’s come up with a plan. Daishou offered to help, but Akaashi wants to catch whoever is doing this himself.

He’s going to stake out his newest piece tonight. A crude plan, but if he wants to catch the culprit in the act it’s his best bet.

With a sigh, he settles into his hiding place, the first story of an abandoned warehouse across the alley from his trap. He put his work up on that wall specifically for this vantage point. It’s practically perfect, the only disadvantage being he’ll have to sneak out the back and go around to catch them. He’ll have to be quick and quiet, but he knows this neighborhood well enough to be confident.

He picks a spot under a low, busted window. The street’s quiet, so he can hear when someone walks by, which isn’t very often. His thoughts wander every so often, but mostly he tries to imagine what he’s gonna do to the prick he catches. He’s never been a very good fighter, but maybe he can just punch them in the nose. Or kick them in the balls, if they have them. Mostly he wants to find out what kind of idiot is dumb enough or brave enough to pull this stunt. Maybe he knows them, and they’re trying to challenge him. Perhaps it’s someone that wants to challenge Nohebi, although he can’t think of anyone that would want to challenge either of them in a time like this. Most of the protest artists have banded together, for the time being.

The scuffle of shoes right outside the window pulls him out of his thoughts. The sound of a plastic cap and the hissing of air confirms that his bait worked. He peeks over the edge of the window, slowly, and sees a tall figure in a hoodie. As he watches they start whistling.

Akaashi sneaks back to the door and out, using a side street to creep along as silently as possible. Old broken glass and rocks crunch between his boots and the pavement. As he edges around the corner he can see the figure better. Their silhouette is half wrapped in shadow, and the hood over their head makes it hard to find any truly distinguishing figures. Still, from this angle he can't help but think they look, stocky, like there's no small amount of power wrapped in their figure. His courage flags, just a bit, but then the sharp smell of spray paint hits his nose and anger clouds any sane, smart part of him that should be scared. He gets to the edge of the alley before striding forward, no longer caring about his presence being known.

He gets a hand on the person’s shoulder. “I don’t know if anyone ever cared to teach you etiquette but-” Akaashi’s words die in his throat as the figure turns around and grins at him.

“Hey, ‘Kaashi!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well we've almost reached the end, thanks for reading


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last one, folks! A huge thank you to everyone for reading, subscribing and leaving kudos.

He makes to bolt but instead finds himself against the wall, somehow. He’s suddenly remembering just how strong Bokuto is. He’s caged by Bokuto’s arms on either side and Bokuto’s expression is still as bright and earnest as ever. “I wanna talk, so please just listen to me, and maybe answer my questions? If you still want to run off afterwards, that’s fine, but _please_ hear me out first?”

Akaashi looks away, staring at the window he was crouched behind just a few minutes ago. This was a mistake. Looking at Bokuto’s face again makes his heart clench and he remembers everything he’d been trying _so hard_ to forget for the past two weeks. It isn’t fair, why can’t he just let him go?

Bokuto takes his silence as agreement and clears his throat. “Look, I don’t know why you’re running away from me. I’ve thought about that night constantly for the last two weeks. I’ve been replaying every day leading up to it over and over and I’m trying to find out where I went wrong but I _can’t_. I don’t know what I did or said that made you think I didn’t want you around.” His voice breaks a bit, and Akaashi steels himself, refusing to look in his eyes. “I love you Akaashi. I think you at least like me, too. I really want this to work, so _please_ just talk to me.”

He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, willing his voice to be even. “You’re imagining things, it was just sex.”

“Bullshit. Look me in the eyes and tell me that again.”

Akaashi refuses.

“Keiji.”

He feels like the air’s been punched out of his lungs. Finally meeting Bokuto’s eyes he inhales shakily, trying to find the words. When faced with those wide, guileless eyes once more he has no choice but to tell the truth. There’s such honest, open affection there, he at least deserves the truth, as well as Akaashi can tell it.

“You think you love me, but I think you just pity me. You’re such a good person, you just think I’m someone broken that you can fix. I can’t accept that. I can’t accept any affection from you, because you only pity me. It hurts, but it’s true. Then, later, when I’m happy and you think you’ve fixed me- You’ll move on, but I’ll still-”

The feeling of a hand caressing his face cuts him off and he sees that Bokuto’s face has twisted into a grimace. “That’s really what you think I think of you?” His other hand comes up to his face as well and he cups Akaashi’s face, and he maintains eye contact as he continues. “I feel so terrible that you went through so much, but I don’t pity you. I admire you. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. Keiji, I want to help you in whatever way you need, but I don’t want to fix you. You’re a person I love, not a project.”

Akaashi feels tears well up and spill over, Bokuto smiles at him and wipes them away. “You’re really silly sometimes, Keiji.”

He watches him and his heart clenches in a way that’s far less painful. “I think you’re an incredible person too. I love you, Koutarou.”

Suddenly their lips are crashing together and Akaashi’s smiling against their kiss. Koutarou backs up far too soon, so he chases after him, melding their lips together this time. Koutarou’s tongue swipes across his lips and he hums and opens his mouth in response. It’s only been two weeks but it simultaneously feels like it’s been forever and they’ve never stopped kissing. Akaashi snakes his hands up Koutarou’s chest and past his neck to run his fingers over his scalp. He missed his stupid hair.

A sharp whistle has them both pulling away from each other.

“You guys are so weird at flirting.”

Akaashi looks over sharply at the familiar voice. “Kuroo?”

Koutarou rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry, he’s been playing lookout for me. I really couldn’t get caught doing this, y’know?”

Annoyance bubbles up at the thought of Kuroo being a part of this plot, but he can’t be bothered when it worked. He will admit he’s a bit embarrassed he fell into this trap. He looks back at Koutarou with a smirk. “And I really thought _I_ was the one setting a trap.”

Koutarou’s eyes light up. “Right? I came up with this idea all by myself. I knew how much you loved your art, and I knew you’d want to confront whoever was behind it.” He puffs out his chest a bit and raises his eyebrows as he grins down at Akaashi. “Pretty clever, right?”

Akaashi snorts, Koutarou’s the same as ever. “I’ll admit it was a good plan, but you’re a terrible artist.”

His face falls a bit and he whines. “Keijiii”

“Although maybe you’re not such a terrible cop, after all.” The words are hardly out of his mouth before he’s pulled into a crushing hug.

“…I’ll leave you two to your, uh, whatever it is you’re doing.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes as Kuroo saunters away. Koutarou finally lets him go and then looks down at his arms.

“Oh.”

As he looks at the paint on his arms Akaashi becomes aware of the fact that his back is covered in paint. He feels his eyebrow twitch as he looks up at Koutarou. “You owe me new clothes.”

“Can I just get you a gift card to Hot Topic?”

Akaashi turns his nose up and looks away. “You’re on thin ice here, Koutarou.” In contrast to his words, he grabs one of his paint-covered hands and links their fingers together. His heart flutters as Koutarou squeezes his hand and they make their way out of the alley together.

* * *

 

He wakes up cradled against Koutarou’s bare chest, his arms holding him snugly against him. His breath puffs against his scalp and Akaashi finds himself moving impossibly closer, tangling their legs together.

In response Koutarou stirs a bit, making a wordless groan at the movement.

Akaashi feels a distinct shape press against his hip as he shifts around and suddenly going back to sleep is the last thing on his mind. He presses his face up to nose at his boyfriend’s collarbone before kissing it lightly and moving to the juncture of shoulder and neck, leaving feather light kisses.

“Keiji, are you trying to seduce me?” Koutarou’s voice from above him is deep and throaty and Akaashi grins against his skin before delivering a love bite to it.

“Something like that. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

The chest below his chin rumbles a bit. “I will literally never mind.”

Akaashi stops lavishing attention to properly raise his head and meet his boyfriend’s gaze. “Careful, I might just hold you to that.”

Golden eyes meet his, and that wide smile overtakes Koutarou’s face. “Please do.” Then those wide arms are tugging him down to press their lips together. Neither of them have brushed their teeth, so Akaashi keeps his mouth closed. Still, he feels himself melting against him and can’t help but feel that he was stupid for ever denying himself this.

* * *

 

His phone buzzes in his pocket just as he’s settling the check for the group at table 5. A small smile overtakes his face, since he’s pretty sure he already knows who it is. He closes them out and starts cleaning up with a lightness in his chest that he hadn’t been able to shake off all week. Nor did he particularly want to, all things considered. As he finishes stacking the dirty dishes into a transportable pile he sneaks a moment to check his messages.

A small snort escapes him at the sight of it: Bokuto is still stuck in the mire of paperwork that’s bogged him down since his return. Apparently he’s begun to fear death by boredom. Akaashi simply tells him to get back to it. Their newfound relationship status has changed a lot, but Akaashi sees no reason to entertain him from his job while he’s at said job.

He goes to put his phone back, but the answering buzz of Bokuto’s reply stops him short. When he swipes to it, it’s simply a picture of Bokuto’s face mid-pout. It looks as if he’s taken it himself and a tut escapes from his throat at the same time as a smirk. Before a proper answer to that can even begin to formulate the bell above the door snatches his attention away.

The rest of his shift is too busy to respond, but every so often Akaashi finds a moment to sneak a glance at the photo Bokuto had sent.

* * *

 

His free time finds him at Bokuto’s these days, for a lot of the obvious reasons, and some not so obvious. He had snorted derisively at Suga cooing over their ‘honeymoon phase’ but he wasn’t necessarily wrong. The time they’d spent pining over each other had likely only made it worse. That line between crush and infatuation was still terribly blurred and Akaashi found it hard to not think about where Bokuto was when he had nothing to occupy himself with. He’d be more embarrassed about it if Bokuto wasn’t the exact same. The look on his boyfriend’s face every time he greeted him from the couch after a day’s work would likely never get old.

For other reasons, less obvious ones, there was the matter of his involvement in the current deadlock. Or rather, a lack of involvement. Staying at a cop’s apartment, so close to the station is a sure way to deter anyone trying to sway him to entering the fray again. Not that he was terribly opposed, it was just so easy to stay in the bubble of warmth he’d created here. Where everything reminds him of the man he’d spent a good half a year annoying and avoiding, even when said man was at work for another few hours.

A ping from his email draws him out of his musings and he glances at it, a smile tugging his lips up. He gets up from where he’d been curled on the couch to set up his laptop and tablet on the kitchen table. Not the most terribly comfortable place to work, but he couldn’t stand to be hunched over on the couch for terribly long. Moving to the table also gave an air of productivity that he couldn’t deny lent him better focus. He’d need it for this commission, especially since the client had offered a contract of sorts if this one went well.

The dingy little coffeepot Bokuto keeps in the corner finally sees some use.

\--

He’d asked after it one evening while Bokuto was cooking. Akaashi himself sat at the table and his eyes caught on the cheap little appliance.

“I’ve never seen you drink coffee.”

He laughed and gave him a sheepish grin. “That’s because I don’t really get along with caffeine, it leaves me all jittery and nervous.”  Akaashi’s eyes caught on the little wrinkles that formed around his eyes when he smiled all big. “Besides, I tasted decaf once and I didn’t think I was missing much.” His tongue peeks out from his lips a bit as he scrunches his eyes up in distaste. It looks childish and is undeniably endearing.

“So, why the coffeemaker?” There’s more than a hint of amusement in his voice when he asks.

This time his boyfriend’s eyebrows raise and he crosses his arm, spatula still in hand. “Probably the same reason I have an extra bedroom, yeah?”

He feels faint color creep onto his cheeks as a small laugh escapes him. “That’s a pretty obvious answer, I suppose Kuroo-san enjoys his coffee quite a lot.”

Bokuto’s brows pull down, a wrinkle creasing between them that Akaashi wants to smooth away. “I’ll have you know I’ve had people over that _weren’t_ Kuroo.”

His breath hitches, just a bit. “Oh?” He tries to keep the edge from creeping out but can’t quite mask it. Maybe because this thing they have is so newly acquired, because it still feels so delicate and fragile. That’s the only excuse he can think of as his mind jumps on the obvious- at least to him- implications.

Suddenly his attention is drawn to his fingers, where they catch and pull on each other. His wrist contorting just the bit to accommodate the fidget. It’s stupid, to worry about something like that. He feels stupid.

Maybe he doesn’t notice, or he’s just ignoring him because Bokuto goes on. “Yeah, actually I have someone over all the time that can’t seem to go without coffee, in fact.” His curiosity is piqued, a bit. He was under the impression that he was the only person Bokuto had over frequently.

Steps draw Bokuto’s large form closer and in the corner of his vision he sees the spatula put down. “They have tattoos and piercings and caused me a lot of trouble.”

A rush of relief and shame flows through him and he picks up his head up to look into those beautiful gold eyes. Relief that he was wrong, shame that he’d even doubted him. A cautious finger catches under his chin and holds him there. Caught in his brilliant gaze he sees only warmth and affection.

“But he’s pretty and smart and so righteous despite it all.”

Akaashi blinks his eyes open. “You were doing so well there.” He wrinkles his nose as Bokuto dips down to deliver a peck to his forehead.

“It’s hardly a bad thing. I wouldn’t have fallen so hard for you if you hadn’t been so… passionate.” His face had scrunched up in his quest for the right word and it relaxed as he sent another dazzling grin his way. He straightens up and Akaashi relaxes back into his chair as he picks up the spatula and returns to the stove.

“Much better.”

\--

Akaashi almost doesn’t notice the door slamming shut a whole two hours away. The ragged breath certainly catches his attention well enough, though. He stands with a start, abandoning his work and causing his chair to squeak across the floor a few inches. As he makes his way around the corner of the kitchen entrance he calls out softly. “Koutarou?”

When he sees him, he’s just standing in the doorway, his palms pressed against his eyes. For a moment, Akaashi is stuck. He’s seen him a bit down before, perhaps a bit annoyed, but this is uncharted territory. His entire posture reads only of despair. Swallowing down his own insecurities he walks forward until he’s right in front of him. As gently as he can, he tugs on Bokuto’s wrist and calls out again. “Koutarou?”

He allows his hands to be pulled away and Akaashi can now see that his face is red and blotchy. It looks like he’s been trying very hard not to cry, and Akaashi _does_ know a lot about that. So he runs his hands down his arms soothingly and tries to give him a reassuring look.

Another ragged breath escapes him before he chokes something out. “Keiji, it’s all so broken.”

Confusion over that takes a backseat as the tears finally spill down his cheeks and Akaashi’s pulling him back to the couch and rubbing his back. Allowing Koutarou to curl up with his head pillowed in Akaashi’s lap. He runs his hands through his hair, displacing the gel until it falls limp and soft between his fingers. He doesn’t know how long they sit like that. A small part of him recognizes that their roles have been reversed from that night that feels a lifetime ago. It feels only right then, that he should be here now and provide whatever comfort he can. Once Bokuto’s ready to tell him who or what hurt him Akaashi will eagerly direct his energy towards it. For now, though, Bokuto needs him to hold him.

Eventually his sobs stop, but he stays in place. Akaashi keeps carding his fingers through his hair, only pausing to occasionally rub at his back. He opens his mouth to ask if he wants to talk about it, but he snaps it shut. If he wants to talk he can.

“I had to turn in some extra paperwork. So I was in this part of the building I didn’t know and I got lost. So I was just wandering the halls and then I was going to turn this corner and I heard this conversation that sounded… weird. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop!” A single, earnest golden eye catches him. “I don’t eavesdrop.” It sounded less tired than indignant. “But I finally rounded the corner and it was some representative that was…” Bokuto splutters for a bit before sighing. “He was bribing the police, Keiji. And he mentioned something about where the money was coming from and I thought to tell the district chief but.”

Bokuto finally sits up but doesn’t meet Akaashi’s gaze. “He knew. Of course. And now I’m-”

Akaashi watches his lower lip quiver as he turns to meet his eyes full on for the first time since he’d left that morning. His breath hitches and he sounds so tired. “I just wanted to _help_ people, Keiji.”

He instinctively tugs him back into his arms, holding him. “I know, Koutarou.”

His mind runs at a thousand miles a minute, trying to plan what to do next. With some effort, he stops, focusing on the now. They could talk about what this meant later, for now he would let Koutarou grieve.

* * *

 

A week later finds them in Suga’s living room, sitting with Suga, Oikawa, Kuroo and Daichi.

Figuring out who to contact was easy; getting a hold of him had been the hard part. Daishou hadn’t taken kindly to his dropping the cause for a boyfriend, of all things. The knowledge that said boyfriend had valuable information had only eased the way minutely.

Despite it all though, they sat in the same room with the one man Akaashi knew of with connections to get this information where it needed to go.

He holds his hand as he recounts it, Akaashi squeezing his hand as he pauses at particularly uncomfortable spots. Kuroo sits on his other side, and Akaashi can see him occasionally pat his shoulder. Between them both, Akaashi hopes Bokuto can get through it.

Eventually though, he’s said all he can and Bokuto lets his hand go. Suga gets up to do something in the kitchen and Akaashi follows to help. The tension hanging in the air, the feeling of something about this situation the city’s been trapped in about to snap, is leaving him feeling restless. The very near future is full of many uncertainties for both him and Bokuto.

Suga stacks cookies from a cooling rack into boxes and Akaashi helps.

When Suga speaks up it’s quiet, but not quite a whisper. “You both seem happy.”

Akaashi doesn’t fight back his smile. “We are.”

He’s surprised when he’s dragged into a hug. “I’m so glad! You’ve really had me worried these past few months. I think you’re both going to be really good for each other.”

He awkwardly pats his back. “Yes, you were right.”

That earns him a laugh and bright grin when he’s released from the embrace. “Of course I was!” He puts his finger to his chin and hums. “Now, that settles you and Tooru.” A sigh escapes him. “I honestly didn’t think I’d be the last one single.”

Akaashi can’t help his laugh at that. “I’ll admit I thought someone would’ve snatched up your pretty mug by now.”

“Hm, you don’t think Daichi would give me his number?”

He nearly sputters. “Is that your type?”

The reply he gets is defensive and Suga goes back to boxing cookies with a slight flush to his cheeks. “Strong, handsome, always wants to do the right thing?”

Instead of helping he leans against the counter and thinks it over. It could work. “Well, he’d be a fool to say no.”

They stay that way, Akaashi keeping him quiet company for a few minutes while Suga fills boxes. When he finishes filling the last one he turns and hands it to Akaashi, who stares down at it a bit dumbly before taking it.

“Oh.”

Suga gives him another bright smile. “This entire situation has me a bit anxious so, I made everyone something to take home…”

He can feel his smile form to something tender as he looks down at the box. “Thank you, Koushi.”

His gratitude is waved off immediately. “It’s nothing.”

“No, I mean.” He sets the box back down and forces himself to lock eyes with Suga’s confused gaze. “For everything these past years. You took me and Tooru in and, I was little shit about a lot of things, but you still cared.”

Understanding dawns across his features and he flits his gaze away before flicking a silver strand of hair out of his face. “That’s what family does, Keiji.” Those eyes meet his again and he looks firmer. “I think you understand that a bit better now.”

This time it’s Akaashi that’s pulling Suga into a hug. “I do.”

* * *

 

Kuroo and Oikawa leave first, since Oikawa has a show to get to. Before they leave Kuroo and Bokuto sneak off to have some sort of conversation that Akaashi can’t really be bothered to wonder about. Knowing them it’s just as likely to be a reassuring heart-to-heart as an exchange of awful knock-knock jokes. He sighs as he realizes that Kuroo is probably about to become even more of a fixture in his life, now tethered to two important people in his life.

Oikawa leans against the couch and fiddles with his phone while he waits for Kuroo and Akaashi does the same. Neither want to interrupt the sudden conversation that’s struck up between Daichi and Suga.

A few minutes after the door shuts behind Oikawa and Kuroo a yawn from Bokuto gives Akaashi their opportunity to leave. Akaashi politely waits for a gap in conversation to inform the two of their departure.

As their leaving Suga’s melodic laugh rings behind them and Akaashi feels his mouth tug up into a smile.

A comfortable silence settles between them as they make their way back to Bokuto’s- No it was more their place these days.

It’s only broken after they settle into bed for the night, both staring at each other in the soft glow of the streetlights seeping in from outside.

“Keiji?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think it’ll all be alright? I know we did what we could and everything but it feels weird, leaving it all up to other people.”

Akaashi sneaks his hand towards him until he bumps it against Bokuto’s. He slides his fingers through his with a motion that’s becoming more and more natural.

“I think we’ve done enough for now. Later there might be more, but we just have to wait.”

He can’t see the face he makes very clearly, but he feels his hand squeeze around his, just a bit. “Waiting is lame.”

He can’t help but laugh a little at that. “It is, but,” he pauses to scooch closer to Koutarou, leaving only a few inches between their faces, “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather wait with.”

The hand he was holding slides up his arm until it’s tucking him under his chin and he can hear his reply where his forehead rests on his chest. “Me too. And”

Akaashi looks up at the pause and can just make out Bokuto’s eyebrows waggling in the near darkness.

“I can think of lots of ways for us to kill time.”

“Is that so?”

Bokuto laughs, a deep rumbling in his chest. “Yeah.”

He can’t seem to displace his smile as he pulls him down into a kiss that’s more of a promise than any words Akaashi could offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't express enough how much every comment, kudos and hit you guys gave meant. When I first started this endeavor a year and a half ago I couldn't have imagined the feedback.   
> Special thanks to my beta Windy, who worked through all of my run-on sentences and bounced ideas around with me   
> And of course I have to give one last shout out to Eve, without whom this fic literally would not exist, what started as a simple need to have an excuse for pierced Akaashi turned into, well, this.   
> Lastly thanks again for reading, this past year and a half was a bit hard on me and there were many times when I couldn't find it in me to write anything. But then I'd get a comment or a new slew of Kudos and I felt motivated to get this story done. This is the longest fic I've ever written and ending it is bittersweet, but I'm truly glad that others enjoyed it.


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